


Blood to Ink

by purplesocrates



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 1940s, AU, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Angst, Cannibalism, Drinking, F/M, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Murder, Obsession, Slow Burn, Smoking, descriptions of murder tableaus, hannibal is a surgeon, will is a crime writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-21 08:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 59,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesocrates/pseuds/purplesocrates
Summary: Will Graham is an ex Private Investigator with a past that still haunts him.  He rarely leaves the house these days spending his time writing cheap crime novels, drinking and smoking.  Hannibal is a Surgeon with a murderous hobby that no one suspects the disarming man capable of.    When Hannibal comes across one of Will's novel by chance one day he becomes obsessed with this W.B.Graham's mind and longs to know more.  When a series of events that could be coincidences but Hannibal is sure is fate brings them together it sets in motion a dangerous obsession where Hannibal pulls Will further and further into his world of murder, blood and cannibalism.(Or murder husband 1940's angsty noir crime drama with hats and awesome suits.)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is set vaguely in the 1940's more of an aesthetic choice than anything. The term serial killer was not coined or used in common parlance until the 1970's instead the term mass murderer was used so for this fic that is what Hannibal and Francis Dolarhyde will be referred to but they are serial killers.
> 
> Tags will be updated as the fic is, its planned out completely I am not sure how many chapters there will be yet but when I do I will update the number. 
> 
> I will be updating every Tuesday.
> 
> Enjoy and please leave me a comment or some kudos if you want to I love getting them they warm the cockles of my heart. xxxx

Will stares at the bottle of bourbon on his desk, it’s half empty and he knows it won’t last much longer.  He thinks he’s got another.  At least he hopes he does because it looks like it’s that freezing rain outside which is usually followed by snow and he doesn’t want to go outside.  Who is he kidding he never wants to go outside no matter what the weather.  He checks his watch, ten o’clock at night, he doesn’t know where the day and, let’s face it, most of the evening has gone.  He stares at the typewriter in front of him and the pile of pages next to him and sighs.  He stubs out the cigarette he was smoking into the over flowing ash tray next to his typewriter, then gets another one from the packet it tapping it against the table absent minded before lighting it with his battered silver lighter cupping his hand around the cigarette against a non-existent wind.  Looking at the glass he has just drained, he smirks takes a deep drag of the cigarette and then rests it on the ashtray he pours another large glass of bourbon, spilling some on the pile of pages he curses.  He takes a large sip and puts the glass down picks up his cigarette which he balances in his mouth, adjusting his glasses he puts his fingers on the keys of the typewriter in the hope that inspiration will strike.

Endings are always the hardest thing to write, even though he has known the ending of this story since he began it.   Now he is finally here he suddenly finds it hard to put words on paper.  If he closes his eyes he can see the end in his mind’s eye as clear as day, it’s right there gleaming.  The image came to him one night and has been haunting him ever since. _The Fall._   He knows that when he writes it he won’t be haunted by it anymore and that makes him strangely melancholic.  He smiles to himself and opens his eyes, he is always like this when he finishes a novel.  He feels like he is in a perpetual state of mourning for his books.  _Maybe I should stop drinking_ , he thinks as he takes another drag on his rapidly diminishing cigarette, he laughs picking up the glass of bourbon and downing the rest. _Pull it together_ , he thinks.  He starts to type and the sound of his fingers hitting the keys mixed with the rain outside fill the restless air of his small apartment, smoke curls around his face from the cigarette precariously balanced between his lips.

He has almost lost count now of the amount of these novels that have invaded his brain and been written down.  He has been sat in this room for years now and words have spilled through his now beaten typewriter.  From where these blood soaked visions come from he does not know he just transfers them through ink to the cheap white paper he uses.  He often thinks he is possessed by these killers and their designs, taken over against his will.  They come into his mind unbidden like a lightning strike of inspiration.  He can see through their eyes as if they are his own, he feels a strange kind of empathy towards them which he doesn’t like to dwell on. He feels it for his victims too they shout loudly in his head, their pain sears through him with astonishing accuracy and then drips out through the ribbon on the typewriter onto the page.  His protagonist, Jack, is someone he wishes he could be, strong and able, who wears his pain nobly on his sleeve who fights battles he knows he can’t win.  He likes Jack, he really does but sometimes he feels as if Jack just drains his imagination as quickly as Will drains a bottle of bourbon.

He gets to the end of the page and removes it from the typewriter he adds it to the pile and picks up a fresh piece of paper and rolls in onto the roller.  He takes the opportunity to pour himself another bourbon takes a large sip, stubbing out his smoke and lighting another he begins typing again.  He repeats this process until he finishes the final page.  The last sentence written he types the dreaded words ‘The End’ and sighs.  He places the last page on the pile and shuffles them so they are all even, he takes the brown string he keeps on his desk and ties the bundle together placing them in the thick, brown padded envelope addressed for his editor the ever enigmatic Miss Alana Bloom.  He seals it and sighs again.  He leans back in his chair and drinks the rest of his bourbon and smokes the rest of his cigarette and instantly begins wondering what Jack will make him write next?

He used to be a PI but then the last case he lost _her_ and he has not forgiven himself for it.  Instead he sits here in this room writing out his guilt with only her ghost for company.  She is here now staring at the rain as it falls on the city outside.  He looks at her and smiles he is glad she is here he can’t imagine her not being a witness to each one of his creations.

 _Another one bites the dust._ Abigail says this as she turns to look at him, those bright blue eyes still look sad to him but she smiles.

“Yes another one.”  He replies standing up to look for another bottle of bourbon he stumbles and he senses her disapproval.

_It’s in the cupboard above the sink._

He waves a hand in thanks and goes to seek it out.  He finds it and stumbles back to his desk to get his glass and pack of smokes and lighter before he makes his way to the small worn out armchair he usually falls asleep in.  He pours himself a glass and places the bottle on the floor by the chair, he lights a new cigarette.

_You should eat something._

“Yes I probably should.  I will tomorrow.  After the courier comes to get the book I’ll get food I promise.”

She huffs in disbelief and walks around to stand in front of him arms crossed in front of her chest. _You’ll be a ghost like me soon if you keep this up._

“You aren’t a ghost you are a figment of my imagination” he slurs and lifts the glass in salute before drinking again.

 _What isn’t?_   She laughs and he nods in agreement as he downs the last of the bourbon his eyes close and he falls asleep while she watches over him making sure the cigarette balanced between his fingers burns itself out.

 

\-------

 

Hannibal swills his red wine around in his glass noting the slight separation at the top of the liquid, he brings the glass to his nose and inhales the musty scent.  Bringing the glass up to his lips he sips a small amount allowing it to coat his mouth before swallowing.  He closes his eyes remembering the sounds and smells of the night. He feels the calm satisfaction he always feels after a successful kill.  He can still feel the crack of bones, the splitting of skin and the smell of the blood as it is released, that stunning red against the white of pale skin.  The look in his victim’s eyes as he realised there is no surviving this pain, that he will not survive Hannibal’s design only live just long enough to feel its sharp merciless torture.  His victim this evening had provided him with a liver before they expired under his expert hands.  He looks forward to his meal tomorrow and is already thinking of what wine to pair with it. 

Hannibal had made his victim so much more beautiful in death than he had been in life.  _Such pale skin_ , Hannibal thinks idly, _almost blue in the end_.  The man was elevated to a pagan sacrifice, his blood was a gift to the gods.  Hannibal had left the Priest suspended above the altar of his own church - a final insult to the man who had disrespected his own calling to such a high degree.  The Priest did not deserve to wear the cloth of the church, despicable as he was.  The so-called Priest had hidden his proclivities well, never been caught, protected by a spotless reputation his mask so well placed few had seen through it.  In this way he was to be admired. Only someone such as Hannibal could see it, he could always recognise a fellow predator.  Though this piece of worthless humanity was nothing like Hannibal. 

As he had displayed the Priest to reflect his true nature Hannibal had thought of Mischa.  He had thought of her young life wasted in such a violent end.  The revenge he had sought that night had only quelled some of the fire within, it still burned within him, she still burned within him.  _Always with me, a part of me._ He thinks of tasting the salt of his tears as he consumed her.  He sighs and takes another sip of his wine replacing that thought with the image of his lecherous, rapist Priest. _Another one bites the dust,_ he thinks in Mischa’s sing-song child’s voice.

It had been sometime since his last kill, the fruits from his last spree had started to wane and he could feel the burn bubbling under his fingertips.  He didn’t need to kill but he missed the feeling if he didn’t.  There were many blood drenched memories in his mind palace that he could visit whenever he felt the need brewing and it wasn’t safe to indulge.  It had finally been long enough between kills so he had looked through his names and remembered him instantly.  He had kept his eye on him for some time and had wanted to dispose of him for the last few months.

 _Yes a very satisfactory evening_ , Hannibal thinks as he closes his eyes and sees the scene he left and smiles.

 

\--------

 

“We’ve got a body boss.”  Jimmy bustles in and says in a barely concealed tone of excitement “a strange one.” 

Miriam Lass looks up from the paperwork on her desk, cigarette held between her long fingers, and sighs. “Where?”

“Church on Franklin Street.” Jimmy says stepping inside but not closing the door, “we just got the call.”

“Where is Zeller?”  She asks and can see the look of irritation on Jimmy’s face at the mention of Brian.  Lass rolls her eyes at the professional rivalry between them, although she knows it makes them work harder which is why she doesn’t discourage it.

“Don’t know.”  Jimmy lies he knows exactly where Brian is.

She puts out her cigarette in the ashtray on her desk and is pulling on her coat and hat as she speaks, “well find him and get your things before the scene is completely contaminated.”  She stuffs her notebook and pencil in her pocket.  Jimmy sighs and mutters under his breath Lass gives him a ‘ _don’t start’_ look and he waves an apology at her as he turns to leave. “Downstairs five minutes Price.” She shouts after him.   “With Zeller, and Katz we need her too.” 

Lass closes her eyes and sighs wondering if this one will be from him.  They haven’t had a body for a while, the fact that it is in a church could mean it is a ‘scene’.  It’s not often you get freshly murdered bodies in churches.    If it is she needs to catch him this time, she needs to prove it’s the same person.  She opens her eyes and looks at the walls of her office covered with pictures and crime scene reports from murders over the last ten years.  Of course no-one believes her, the idea that one person could commit all these atrocities being inconceivable to most.  She knows, she just knows it’s the same person.  She just needs to find him this time. 

She got the job as leading homicide Detective because she was bold and followed her hunches.  It is after all unheard of that a woman would hold this position or work in law enforcement at all.  She has clawed her way to the top through sheer will and, what she supposes is, talent but she thinks of as good instinct.  She trusts herself. She trusts the way her brain and her gut work together.  She may not be liked by all the men who think they should have this job but she is respected. She values respect more than popularity anyway. Just as well as they all think she is crazy with this idea of a killer who has committed multiple murders over a decade and never been caught.  There is nothing to link them except the occasional macabre way they were displayed and the missing organs. 

She spends most of her nights these days staring at the crime scene photos in her office drinking too much coffee and chain smoking trying to puzzle it together.  She tries to imagine what kind of person, what kind of man (she is sure it’s a man) would do this.  His reasons, his motives. Everyone thinks she is crazy but her solve rate for murders in the Baltimore area is higher than most other police departments in the country so they allow her this eccentricity.  Her team think she is obsessed that she is seeing patterns that aren’t there.  But Lass knows.  She can feel it deep in her bones and she trusts that.  If she can catch him it would be the catch of a career.  _When I catch him_ , she thinks, _when._

 

Lass walks through the doors of the church and before she sees it _she knows_.  She can feel it.  A cold slither down her neck and spine.  The same feeling she has gotten at all his crime scenes.  She closes her eyes takes a deep breath and walks down the main aisle of the church to the altar where the body is.  It’s suspended above the altar on a cross upside down with its arms outstretched.  It’s an inverted crucifixion.  The man is naked and has been nailed to the inverted wooden cross with large metal nails through his hands and feet, the whole cross and man has been turned upside down and is suspended from the large wooden beams of the roof of the church, there are two more anchoring ropes from the horizontal beam of the cross which have been wrapped around two of the large stone columns of the church.  The only blood is the dried remnants around the wounds. 

“Who is he?”  Miriam asks Brian who is taking pictures of the scene.  She looks at the body his naked skin is so pale it is a bluish grey.  He could be a statue, a macabre piece of art.  The message behind it is clear, this man was not who he appeared to be.  Someone wanted the world to know he was an abomination. 

“Priest of the church.”  Brian replies “Someone obviously took a dislike to him.”

Miriam rolls her eyes at the obvious statement. “I would say so.”  Someone wanted to show the church who he was, he has been exposed in the most sacrilegious of displays.

“The nuns found him.” Price says coming up behind her with Beverly Katz, he sounds far too amused by this and Katz rolls her eyes at him.

“I just spoke to them.” Bev says and Lass is relieved that it was Katz that spoke to them and not Jimmy. “They say he was well liked in the community, no enemies, no one who would want to hurt him.”  Miriam doubts this, _no one they know of_ , she thinks.

“How long has he been dead?  I assume he was killed before he was displayed here?”  Miriam asks her eyes can’t seem to leave the body in front of her.  It seems unlikely he was killed here there is no blood anywhere.

Bev looks at Lass looking at the body, she then looks at the body as well as she speaks. “Hard to say right now but I can’t see any other wounds, there is a small incision on his chest but nothing that would have killed him.  Dying from crucifixion takes a long time and he hasn’t been missing that long. We will know more when we do an autopsy.”  Bev speaks with authority as usual and Miriam finds it comforting, something to focus on.

“I assume there are no prints?”  Miriam directs this question to Price.

Price has been dusting around the altar but he is pretty sure it will just be the nuns and the Priest.  The whole thing _looks_ clean, but maybe they will get lucky. “Once we get him down we can have a better look but it seems pretty clean so far.”

“Anyone see anything?  I mean this must have taken a while to set up right?”  Miriam looks at it and can’t imagine one person doing this.  Then again a lot of the scenes left by her killer are like this; seemingly impossible for one person alone to do it’s partly why no one believes her.

“The church was closed up on Saturday night and not opened on Sunday because the Priest was missing,” Jimmy explains “so no one has been in or out since about 9pm on Saturday.  The nuns came in this morning at eight AM and found him.  The door was still locked when they found him, so whoever did this had all of Saturday evening and Sunday conceivably.”

“Still that’s a hell of a lot work for one person.”  Lass says.

“It looks like the cross is in sections, easy to assemble.”  Brian says as he looks closer at the back of it.  He could have brought the whole thing in here in parts and then assembled it here and used the beams and columns as leverage, maybe using some kind of pulley.”

Miriam sighs again this is her guy she knows it.  He is starting again.

Bev can see the thought flicker across Miriam’s face, she knows that look after all these years working together.  They have always had each other’s back. Bev is sceptical of Lass’s theory though however she cannot deny that the woman has hunches that are rarely if ever proved wrong. “You think it’s him don’t you?”  Bev asks and they all look at Lass.

“Prove to me it’s not.”  Lass says as she looks at her team who are all giving her that ‘look’, the one that says _here we go again_.  She is watched by all of them as she walks back up the aisle until she hears Bev shout at them to get back to work.  Lass smiles as she opens the doors and walks out of the church into the cold morning light.  She thinks she can smell snow.

 

\---------

 

Miriam reads the autopsy report while drinking stale coffee and smoking her last cigarette.  The man is missing a liver, taken while he was still alive and probably awake, but that’s not what killed him. He was suffocated before he was strung up on the cross.  Killed elsewhere then displayed.  There are no prints nothing left behind, no witnesses, nothing.  It’s him she knows it is.

Every one of his kills is different, he will most likely never kill like this again.  The only thing that connects the victims are the missing organs and the way they are displayed.  The priest seems clean nothing on him, nothing to show he has any enemies that he was up to anything that would cause this.  He probably did do something and they may never find it. They are still digging so maybe something will come up to explain it.  Miriam doubts it.  Whatever the reasoning behind this is secondary anyway.  Some of the victims they do find reasons; some petty and arbitrary some more heinous, but for some there is nothing. This man kills because he likes it, because he can, because he wants to.  He chooses his victims according to his own standards, no particular motive he doesn’t discriminate between men and women, race or creed, age or anything else.  These people who adorn her office with their crime scene pictures have nothing discernible in common other than who killed them.

Miriam is sure there must be something, they have all come across this man before they died.  They must have met him somewhere there is a link she just needs to find it.  She sighs again and looks at the empty packet of smokes and wonders if she can ask one of the guys to get her some more. _The walk might do you good_ , she thinks in Bev’s voice and smiles deciding to brave the snow.  She takes one last look at the photos and then pulls on her coat and hat, _perhaps inspiration will strike, she thinks as she closes her office door behind her._

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal encounters some of W.B. Graham's work and is intrigued. Alana is surprised at the direction Will's new book is taking and Mason Verger rears his ugly head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating Monday's now because Garfield is quite right when he says he hates Mondays I hope to brighten your Mondays with noir crime angst and descriptions of awesome suits. I am a quite a few chapters in now and have a plan so it will be finished and the updates will be regular unless the gods decide otherwise (you know how fickle they can be.)

Hannibal cracks his fingers.  A bad habit for a surgeon but sometimes he just needs to release the tension.  He moves his head from side to side to stretching the neck muscles.  Rolling his shoulders he hears a slight crack and winces. It’s been a long day he has been in surgery for most of it and he is looking forward to going home, needing his sanctuary to recharge his batteries.  He removes his rubber gloves, surgical gown, mask and cap which he leaves for Nurse Du Maurier to sterilize in carbolic acid.  She is the only one he trusts to do this. He is fastidious about it, he knows other surgeons aren’t always, in too much of a rush to get from patient to patient.  Hannibal is not like that he takes his time, he likes to ensure that everything is just as he likes it.   He changes back into his suit, donning his armour with his usual precision.  He looks at himself in the mirror and combs his hair back.  He needs to speak to the brother of his patient before he leaves.  Generally Hannibal prefers to do this dressed appropriately. He doesn’t like appearing in front of people covered in the blood of their family members, _at least not at work_ , he smirks to himself. 

He is wearing a dark brown double breasted suit with a light brown pinstripe, his shirt is cream and his tie is a blue paisley.  The suit makes him look older than he is, something he courts as a way of quickly achieving an authoritative aura.  He is young to be at the top of his profession, most of this colleagues are older than him and he doesn’t like to give them any ammunition to remind him.  He also finds patients respond better to someone who dresses a little older.  In many ways he has always felt older than his years despite his fitness, he has lived through a lot.

He leaves the changing room and walks with his usual purpose to the waiting area, where the brother of the young woman he has just performed surgery on is sat smoking, leaving ash on the floor.  Hannibal frowns at this and takes a deep breath before approaching the man with confidence and with the softest look he can configure his face into - practicing at appearing more empathetic. 

“Mr Verger.”  Hannibal says evenly.  He has not taken a great liking to this man who is, quite frankly, obnoxious and loud, such qualities would usually ensure he was on Hannibal’s list.  However he is quite high profile so currently not worth the risk.  _Perhaps later_ , Hannibal comforts himself.

Mason stands up and stubs out the cigarette he had been smoking on the arm of the chair, Hannibal watches this and can feel his entire body vibrating with rage but just breathes through it.  Mason moves too close to Hannibal, invading his personal space in an attempt to assert his authority.  Hannibal’s hands twitch at the thought of reaching up and snapping Mason’s neck.  Instead Hannibal sighs and takes a step back. 

“Doctor Lecter.”  Mason’s voice drips with arrogance.  “How is dear Margot?”

Hannibal knows that Mason does not care at all about how his sister is.  Mason is only here to ensure she doesn’t die from something that was not his design.  She was involved in a car accident, badly injured, Hannibal has stitched her back together but at a cost. 

“She is stable but there were some complications.”  Hannibal’s tone is even despite the bitter distaste he has under his tongue.

Mason looks far too pleased for Hannibal’s liking.

“Complications?”  Mason asks with feigned concern.

“She will be unable to have children.  The accident caused significant internal damage and I am afraid we had to perform a complete hysterectomy.”  Hannibal says this with as much sympathy as he can muster not that Verger is at all wanting or needing of it, if anything he looks slightly relieved at this news, as if it solves a sticky problem for him.  Hannibal makes a decision and mentally adds him to his list, _his time will come_ Hannibal thinks his eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments before the look of professional concern is once again smoothly supplanted over his face.  Mason doesn’t notice.

“No babies for poor Margot.”  Verger says this as if he is talking about a child who can’t have their favourite toy.  “Well,” he leans in again and whispers conspiratorially, “her proclivities would never have allowed it anyway.”

Hannibal sighs at this vulgar invasion of privacy from her brother, not in the least bit interested in who his patients sleep with or who anyone sleeps with for that matter.  “Well one of the nurses can explain it to her if you like?”

Mason smiles, almost beams, “no, no Doctor this must stay in the family.  I will tell her.” 

_Of course,_ Hannibal thinks, _he wouldn’t want to be deprived of the pleasure._ “Whatever you think is best.”

“Is she awake?” 

“No not yet, I will ask one of the nurses to let you know when she is.”  Hannibal takes another step back, he feels contaminated just being close to this man.  “She should wake within the hour, she will be in pain though so we may have to sedate her.  For the moment though she is, as I say, stable.  We will continue to monitor her carefully.”  Hannibal wants to leave, he is tired and his patience is thin.

“Of course, of course.  Well thank you so much Doctor” Mason grabs Hannibal’s arm who just about manages to not grimace at the touch. 

He looks at the hand still on his arm and smiles thinly “please do not hesitate to contact my office should you have any further questions.  I will check on Margot in the morning.”

Mason eventually removes his hand from Hannibal’s arm but insists on shaking Hannibal’s hand, which causes Hannibal to thinks he will now need to thoroughly wash his hands once again before going home. 

 

Hannibal is relieved when he manages to finally leave the hospital, the night is a crisp, cold evening and the stars are visible in the dim street lighting.  He usually drives in to work but his car is in the shop so he has to take the train.  It really is the last thing he wants to do after such a long day, especially after having to spend part of it in the company of Mason Verger.  He pulls his beige overcoat closer around himself and tightens his navy cashmere scarf and then pulls down his brown trilby which has a matching darker brown leather band around it.

He is glad it is late and there are not many people around so the station is relatively quiet.  He has some time before the next train so decides to buy a paper from the stand in the main entrance of the station.  He is hopeful that his work will have made the headlines, he doesn’t like to admit it but he does get a small thrill from seeing these things reported.  He chooses a few papers, some more gossipy than others.  Just before he goes to pay his eye is drawn to the cheap paperbacks on the rack.  They are trashy crime novels that are printed on that thin yellow paper where the ink comes off on your fingertips.  He would not normally give them a second glance but the cover of one of them catches his attention. 

Hannibal picks the book up and adds it to his purchases, he pays and goes to wait for his train. 

 

Once he is on the train ensconced, blissfully, in an empty carriage he looks through the papers for any articles on his Priest.  There are a few.  His loyal follower Freddie Lounds seems to have picked up the case she has even managed to get a few pictures too, he smiles and thinks she is very resourceful. _Who did you screw to get those?_ He wonders with a smirk.  Detective Lass is on the case too he notices with pleasure.  She has been on his tail for the last ten years an admirable adversary he respects her.  They have not found anything though not even on the Priest, Lounds hints at a possible motive of revenge but doesn’t elaborate.  She clearly has nothing.

Hannibal then turns his attention to the book, the cover of which shows the body of a woman mounted on a stag head.  She is draped over it, hair falling down like a dark waterfall, her breasts are visible, small pink nipples, a drape of fabric falling between her legs an attempt at modesty. The novel is called ‘Mounted Murder” a ridiculous title he notices the author’s name a _W. B. Graham_.  He runs his fingers over the gratuitous cover art before turning it over and reading the back.  It seems to be a part of a series all with the same lead Detective Jack Crawford solving various far-fetched murder cases.  The author is from the local area and bases all his cases in Baltimore.  The artist of the cover is not credited.  Hannibal is intrigued he doesn’t know why but he was drawn to this image it has a strange melancholy attached to it and the style is almost reminiscent of Botticelli. 

He opens the book and begins to read.  The story is about a killer of young girls who displays them in macabre but inventive ways.  Hannibal almost misses his stop he is so engrossed in the writing.  He likes the main character Jack, he seems solid and defined by his principles.  He is also easily blinded by the evil in the world, an interesting juxtaposition for a Detective.  Hannibal thinks the writer of these novels has a mind that is far superior to this medium.  The way he describes kills is mesmerizing.  It’s the closest Hannibal has ever experienced to having his own psychology explained to him.  _Fascinating_. 

It is very rare he comes across a mind that interests him.

\-------

 

Bev walks through the throng of the police station to Miriam’s office, the door is closed and the blind is down on the window. _Not a good sign,_ she thinks, _probably means she has been here all night, again._   She is carrying the report on the crime scene from herself, Price and Zeller.  She offered to bring it up to Miriam because she needed a break from the bickering.  Bev loves those guys she really does but sometimes the professional rivalry is just too much and she needs a break from it.  Miriam is a kindred spirit, she might be obsessive and somewhat crazy, but she is also driven and ambitious, smart, she doesn’t take shit from anyone.  These are all qualities she admires.  They need to stick together in this man’s world.

Knocking on the door Bev can hear shuffling inside but nothing else. “Detective its Bev, I have the report on the crime scene in the church.”  She says knowing that Lass is probably not answering the door to most people. 

The door clicks and Lass opens it, she looks pale, she clearly has not slept.  Her hair has been hastily rolled up and is coming loose, her pant suit is crinkled and she isn’t wearing her shoes.  Bev sighs and pushes her way inside closing the door behind her.  The small office smells of coffee, nicotine and _crazy_ Bev thinks.

“Have you been home at all?  Have you slept?”  Bev says as Lass grabs the report from her hands as she turns around from closing the door.

“No time.  I know it’s him, I know it and I have to prove it this time.”  Lass sounds unhinged and Bev sighs.

“Miriam look you need to take a break you are never going to solve this if you keep torturing yourself, how can you think clearly when you are running on coffee and no sleep?”  Bev has said all of this to Lass before and she knows what that the reaction will be.  She only calls her Miriam when they are alone hoping that by doing so now she will get through to her.

Lass is however, engrossed in the report and clearly not listening to a word Bev has just said. “Is this it?  Your final findings?”

Bev takes a deep breath and tries to remember that Lass is under pressure and that she probably did not mean to dismiss days of painstaking work out of hand.  “Yes.  There was not a lot there, as we predicted the crime scene was clean, no prints other than the nuns and the Priest himself.  Nothing on the body either.”

“What about the cross?  The wood? The nails?”  Lass is attempting to keep the rising frustration from her voice but is not doing a particularly good job of it.

Bev sighs again and tries to remain calm, she sometimes thinks talking to Miriam when she is like this is like talking to a child who is having a tantrum.  “Nothing conclusive, we don’t know where it came from there is nothing particularly unusual about it.  We have contacted local builder’s yards and timber companies but they have no record of any recent sales.  The nails and rope are standard and could have come from any local hardware store.  He hasn’t left anything.  What about the Priest did you find anything on him?”  Bev asks as a way of reminding her they are not the only ones who have come up empty here.

Lass sighs and throws the report down on her desk, picks up the pack of cigarettes takes one and lights it with the lighter her father gave her when she got this job, she tosses the lighter back on the desk when she’s done with it “nothing that we can find, no enemies, everyone loved him it seems.”  She takes a long drag of the cigarette, hand on hip and blows out the smoke.  Bev tries not to cough.

“Maybe it’s not about him, maybe it’s more about Priests in general or the Church in general.”  Bev has mentioned this before but had been ignored.

“No it feels personal it feels like a message about him, a display.”  Lass is so convinced of this she easily dismisses Bev’s theory.

“We can’t find anything on him and there is no connection between him and the other-” Bev almost imperceptibly pauses as she says this “victims.”

Lass notices and rolls her eyes “I know you all think I’m nuts but I know it’s connected, I just know it.  I just need to find what connects them, he must have met them all somehow, they have come across this man in their life.”

Bev sighs and thinks she may as well join the crazy if she isn’t going to beat it and sits down on the sofa that Lass has clearly been falling asleep on for the last few days.  She looks at the pictures again on Miriam’s wall.  “Well if he is removing organs he must be a surgeon right?  Or someone with surgical experience?  Not just anyone can remove an organ so efficiently right?” 

Miriam nods “I have looked into the medical history of all the victims some of them have had surgery or been in contact with the medical profession but others there is nothing.”

“Well what about focusing on surgeons in the area? I mean there can’t be that many, it’s not a profession many go into.”

Lass hadn’t thought to do that, she had been focusing on the victims and their movements. “I hadn’t thought to look at it from that angle.”  She takes another drag of her cigarette a thoughtful look on her face.

“It shouldn’t be too hard to come up with a list of people in the area who have the expertise to remove an organ.  I can make a list if you like, on one condition though.”  Bev stands up and walks over to Miriam and takes her hand.

“What?”

“You go home and get some sleep and food, maybe lay off the cigarettes.”

Miriam smiles and nods “deal, but I want that list as soon as possible.”

“On it boss.” Bev smiles.

 

\-------

 

Alana opens the envelope which her courier picked up a few days ago.  Good old Will always meets his deadlines one of the few of her writers who does.  He seems to churn these books out with a fervour that if she spent too long thinking about would probably worry her.  There is a growing demand for Will’s books so it’s just as well he does churn them out so fast.    She was never a fan of the detective novel (her publishing house doesn’t usually publish them but they can be a lucrative distraction as in Will’s case) they seemed so trite to her and always the women who get hurt by a stronger male figure.  With Will’s books at least they are more intelligent thought out crimes not just over sexualised murder to titillate the audience.  Jack is also a character she can also get behind.  He is sympathetic not just the usual bourbon drinking, chain smoking misanthrope that the lead usually is.  He has a wife who is an interesting character in her own right not just used to be a damsel in distress for him to save. 

She hasn’t actually met Will, only spoken to him on the phone, she likes him, she likes the sound of his voice and she loves the way he writes.  She gets the impression he doesn’t leave the house often, only to get bourbon.  He sounds distracted on the phone, as if his attention is with someone else in the room but she can never hear anyone else there.  He says he lives alone.  The courier said that he has never seen anyone else there.  Then again the courier also said Will usually only opens the door a crack and shoves the envelope through, the smell of bourbon and nicotine thick on his breath.  There had been times when the manuscript was just left outside but Alana put a stop to that - what if someone stole it? 

_Writers_ she thinks _so eccentric._   She shouldn’t complain too much though after all they are who keeps this business going.  Alana has been saving Will’s manuscript until she had a clear afternoon to enjoy it.  She has read all the others on her desk earlier in the week sending them back with revisions.  Will never read the revisions she sent him so now she has stopped sending them.  She only contacts him if it’s something major which they usually discuss over the phone and come to a compromise.  Will re-writes some pages if needed and lets her know when it’s done so she can send the courier.  He is a joy to work with really, professional, quick and non-emotional about his work.

She lights one of her thin cigarillo’s which she saves just to smoke while reading Will’s work, the pack is within easy reach on her desk she sits back in her chair.

_…Jack is tired.  Bone tired.  The kind of tired that feels likes its marking his bones.  He is looking at the pictures of this family, so many dead faces all staring at him accusing.  He is trying to find a connection to anyone who would want to hurt them.  They are the perfect family, he has a type this guy obviously but why? It’s the why that Jack always struggles with.  Trying to get into the mind of this guy is hard for him he can’t seem to imagine what would cause someone to do this.  Crimes of passion he can understand, motives like money or jealousy he understands but this… this is something else.    He can’t wrap his head around it.  He can see the shape of it vague and stalking at the back of his mind like the breath of a hot stag on his neck.  He can smell the musk of the animal he can hear its hooves dragging against the floor, but every time he turns his head he only sees darkness, vague shapes and shadows moving in the black._

_He knows he needs to see it, he needs to see whatever is lurking in that darkness so he can catch it._

_The whole thing is cold, disconnected it doesn’t feel impassioned it feels dark and hollow.  It feels calculated, planned and meticulously carried out.  He needs fresh eyes on this, he needs someone who thinks like this, he needs someone who can understand the why.  The idea came to him when he first saw the crime scene but he pushed it to the back of his mind, he did not want to go there.  He couldn’t go there.  There had to be another way, he would figure it out.  This guy must have left something behind, some clue, a piece of evidence.  Jack would find it just as he had all the other times._

_That was a week ago and he was nowhere, he had nothing. Then the taunting letter had appeared and he knew that there was no other choice.  This guy was clearly planning on doing this again. The guy had contacted the only other killer who could be classed as a mass murderer who was currently incarcerated.  Someone Jack had almost died trying to catch. The man who had been hiding in plain sight for years. His old partner._

Alana gasps when she reads this, she hadn’t expected Will to go back to his previous characters.  He never had done before, his books did not need to be read in any particular order they were all pretty much stand-alone pieces.  There were of course recurring characters like Jack’s wife and some of the fellow officers he worked with but it was always just Jack versus whatever evil was taunting him this time.  Jack’s partner was referenced occasionally but never explicitly mentioned since the first book how many years ago now?  She wondered where this was coming from. He never discussed storylines with her they had a mutual trust going after the first few books. She trusted him to write what the audience wanted and he always seemed to know and he trusted her to edit the books. 

His loyal followers would love this and it would be a good way to get new readers to go back and read his older work.  She smiled _very clever Will_ , she thought, _very clever._

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment they help me resist the need to smoke and drink after writing this fic. Kudos encourage me to drink and smoke - the contentious tricky little bugs that they are.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal meets Will for the first time. Zeller gets his ass kicked by Lass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your perfume suggestions!

Will is staring at his empty fridge, cigarette hanging from his mouth, as if he is surprised that it’s empty. Abigail is stood behind him and he knows she is giving him a look of disapproval as he closes the fridge door takes a drag from his cigarette and reaches for the tumbler of bourbon he has left on the side.

  
_Its ten AM Will._

  
“I know.” He drains the last of the glass eyeing the empty bottle by the sink and sighs.

  
_If you are going to get more you may as well get food._

  
He shrugs, he is not dressed yet, still in his undershorts and t shirt with a thin grey robe and bare feet. His hair is greasy from where he hasn’t showered, he is vaguely aware he probably reeks. “So outside today then.”

  
_I would shower first._

  
He smiles and laughs. “Yeah probably right about that.” He is expecting a call from Alana when she gets to the end of his latest book, she will be mad. Going out could be a good way to avoid her for a bit longer.

_  
That’s not a reason to go out._

  
“Better than not going out at all though.” He says and Abigail can’t argue with that, so he stubs out his cigarette on the still overflowing ashtray and heads towards the bathroom wondering if he has any clean clothes.

Showered and dressed in some crinkled cords, a plaid shirt that desperately needs an iron (Abigail told him that ghosts don’t iron when he suggested she could do it) and a ratty blue jumper, Will reaches for his coat and hat and heads out. All his clothes seem to be too big for him now, _because_ _you_ _don’t_ _eat_ , _bourbon_ _is_ _not_ _food_ Abigail had reminded him as he did up the also worn out belt on its final hole.

  
It’s started snowing but he is glad of the cover and the way it makes everyone look down and rush. He makes his way to the market closest to his apartment, he pulls his hat down further so he can avoid people’s eyes and his hands are stuffed in the pockets of his overcoat because he couldn’t find his gloves, which means he can’t smoke which adds to his twitchiness. Abigail never follows him when he goes outside she just stays in his apartment waiting to haunt him when he returns.

  
He gets to the market and manages to buy some food as well as several bottles of bourbon and more cigarettes, the man behind the counter always gives him a suspicious look whenever he comes in here. Will usually manages to avoid eye contact by looking down or by wearing his glasses but he has forgotten to put them on today so he just lowers his head and hides behind the brim of his worn grey trilby. He notices his books by the counter and smiles slightly, he still gets a bit of a kick out of seeing them. He is pretty sure the man serving him would not believe him or even approve if he told him who he was. This is confirmed when the man sees him looking and huffs a sigh of disapproval.

  
“Don’t know why people buy those. Load of rubbish if you ask me.” He says as he packs Will’s meagre supplies into a brown bag. “The covers are awful. I wish I didn’t have to look at them all day but they do sell well.”

  
Will looks up at that, he actually really likes the cover art he had spent a lot of time looking through the options Alana had sent him. He had been immediately drawn to Margot’s work as it has a Renaissance feel about it. He picks one up a favourite of his ‘Mounted Murder’ and smiles. “I think they're good. I’ll take this one.”

  
The man shrugs “whatever floats your boat mister.”

  
Will smiles and pays for his groceries, putting the paperback in his coat pocket, and makes his way as quickly as he can back to the comfort of his apartment and his ghost.

  
When he gets in and hangs up his worn overcoat and hat, he places his bags down on the kitchen table and begins to unpack the bottles of bourbon and smokes. He opens the cigarettes and lights one with relief and then pours himself a glass of bourbon taking a large swig.

_  
I think Alana has been calling, the phone has rung a couple of times. Did you get food?_

  
He smiles and thinks he will wait until she rings again and he’s had a couple more to drink.

“Yes I got food.” He replies and unpacks the eggs, bacon and bread he bought.

_  
Are you going to eat the food?_

  
He doesn’t say anything he isn’t in the mood right now for her. He drinks the rest of his bourbon and finishes one cigarette and lights another as he begins to make himself some food. The smell of cooking bacon makes his stomach growl and he realises he can’t remember the last time he ate.

  
Just as he has finished eating the phone rings and with a sigh he answers it. “Hello.” He realises his voice is gruff and he coughs a bit to clear it.

  
“Will, it’s Alana.” She sounds strange, a slight quiver in her voice, but not angry.

  
“Hi, are you calling about the book?” He asks cautiously.

  
“No, well yes. I have started it not finished yet. Enjoying it so far love the partner coming back.” She hasn’t gotten to the end yet, he thinks and mentally prepares himself for another phone call from her. Abigail smiles at him.

  
“I am calling with some bad news I’m afraid, it’s Margot.” Will holds a breath. “She was involved in an accident, a few days ago actually, but her brother only just contacted me, well his assistant did.” Alana was really angry that Mason hadn’t called her the day it happened but he was not known for caring about Margot, he was only vaguely aware she was an artist. He definitely did not think of it as a career he had been surprised that someone actually paid her. “She’s stable, she had to have emergency surgery I am not sure of all the details I plan on going by the hospital later to check in on her.”

  
“Which hospital is she at?” Will asks. Margot is the only person other than the courier who has actually been to his apartment. She came by unannounced after he had chosen her to do his cover art and they had spent the night drinking and talking, she had drawn a picture of Will which he, much to her amusement, had stuck on his fridge, he still smiled every time he saw it. She had been coming around ever since.

  
“John Hopkins. I’m going to go by tonight to see her, I spoke to her Doctor who said she was stable but couldn’t give me any more information as I’m not family.” He had been polite but insistent, he had a lovely voice actually.

  
“What’s the Doctor’s name?” Will was gripping the phone now his knuckles white he had a sick feeling in his stomach. Margot was one of the few people in the world he felt close to and the thought of her lying in a hospital bed somewhere with only her monster of a brother to watch over her made him sick to his stomach.

  
“A Doctor Lecter, he has an accent. She is on the intensive care ward.” Alana was surprised that Will was worried she knew Margot had spent some time with Will and that they had become close but he never struck her as the sentimental type.

  
“Okay. I’m going over there now.” Will puts the phone down before Alana can respond, he is thankful he is still mostly dressed and has had only a quarter of a bottle of bourbon. He grabs his shoes puts them back on, pulls on his jumper and grabs his overcoat, hat and scarf he still has no idea where his gloves are and Abigail is no help on the subject. He sighs and grabs his smokes and lighter then he takes the hip flask from the bookshelf filling it up with bourbon before putting it in his inside coat pocket, he ignores Abigail’s withering look. He makes his way out of his apartment hoping he can catch a cab, unlikely in this weather, he may have to brave the train.

\--------  
Lass is furious. She is so furious she can barely breathe. She has always prided herself on her discretion when it comes to the press. Only releasing news when it suited her purposes and always keeping a tight control on the flow of information. It has taken her years to foster a relationship with the press she has some very good contacts who are always reliable. Freddie Lounds is not one of these people, Freddie Lounds is the kind of ‘journalist’ she always avoids. Her brand of reporting makes Lass feel sick to her stomach, as far as Lass is concerned Lounds is what is wrong with the world.

  
As Lass burst into the lab all her suspicions are confirmed. Zeller has gone pale at the very sight of her fury, Bev looks like she is ready to come between them should Lass attack and Jimmy looks like he wants some popcorn so he can watch the show.

  
“I knew it would be you Zeller, can’t you keep it in your pants for five minutes!” Lass shouts and Jimmy laughs but is cut short by the look Lass shoots him. “You mook! Look at this mess!” She throws the paper at Brian who manages to catch it and looks even paler.

  
“Boss I didn't know, I didn't give them to her.” Brian had been dreading this conversation ever since he caught the train into work and had seen them at the newspaper stand - his crime scene photos right there on the front page. Freddie had not been returning his calls. He had felt so pleased with himself when he had met her in a bar and managed to convince her to come back to his. The moment he saw the pictures he knew she had planned the entire thing. “I’m so sorry Boss.”

  
“Zeller I am so mad I could spit, do you just leave these things lying about? How did she get them?”

  
“I had taken some of the photos back home to finish the report, I know we aren't suppose to but we all do it?” He looks around for support and finds none forthcoming. “She must have taken pictures of them there were none missing in the…”

  
“In the morning!” Lass was fuming now, the sight of him looking so pathetically sorry was making her more enraged. “There were none missing in the morning! After you had a reporter in your apartment all night with sensitive police files just laying about! How could you be so stupid?!”

  
“It won’t happen again Boss I promise.”

  
“Damm straight it won’t Zeller because if it does you are straight out on your ear. NEVER TAKE WORK HOME!” Lass storms out of the lab because she might commit murder if she stays there any longer.

  
“That went well.” Jimmy says, both Bev and Zeller shoot him death stares.  
———-

 

Hannibal is dressed in a very dark navy blue three piece suit with a startling white shirt and a patterned yellow tie, he has brogues on which click as he walks down the hospital corridor. He has no surgeries today and is not on call he just needed to catch up on paperwork and articles he is writing for some medical journals. He also wanted to check in on Margot Verger. He had spoken to her colleague earlier today who sounded concerned and said she would be by to visit her later. He was glad about that as it seems her brother, much to his relief if he is honest, has other places to be. Mason, having gotten all the pleasure he could from telling Margot she could not conceive, has now left her to pick up the pieces of this news by herself.

  
He arrives at Margot’s room expecting to find her alone but as he goes to open the door he can see a young man sat in the chair next to her bed. He has messy hair and looks like he got dressed in a hurry. He is wearing faded brown cords and a large worn blue jumper with what looks like a plaid shirt underneath. All of his clothes look too big for him, he looks thin and worn himself, his skin is pale and his eyes sunken, his cheeks have a slight redness to them which point to some alcohol abuse, broken veins. He does not look like someone with whom Margot Verger would ever associate.

  
Hannibal is intrigued and wants to go in but they are deep in conversation and he doesn’t want to disturb them. Instead he makes his way to the Nurses station. He is well liked by the nurses he always makes a point of being charming to them as it makes his life easier to have them on his side. He respects the job they perform and their approval of him adds to the persona which he has cultivated since he moved here. The nurse who is at the station at the moment is his favourite the one he trusts with everything _perfect_ he thinks.

  
“Nurse Du Maurier.” He says in the smoothest tone he can muster, he makes a point of smelling the air and then says “ahh a new perfume today Guerlian Shalimar I believe, it suits you.” The ability to call out the Nurses’ perfumes has been one of his most effective weapons in his charm offensive.

  
Nurse Du Maurier pushes her blonde hair behind her ear and looks down and then up at him through her eyelashes, “Bedelia please.” She says her voice is smooth as velvet and her smile seems to hide more than reveal. “How do you always know?” She takes a step closer to the counter and Hannibal.

  
He taps the side of his nose with his fine surgeons finger and smiles “never fails me.”  
She laughs and leans on the counter purposefully. “It’s quite the party trick.” She says and fixes him with a large open smile.

  
“It has been known to amuse.” He responds by moving closer to her leaning slightly in a conspiratorial manner. “I was hoping to ask a favour.”

  
She smiles even wider at the idea that they may have a shared secret. “Anything Doctor.” She says smoothly, she is used to Doctors who like their title being said by nurses, he is not one of them but she doesn’t need to know that right now, so he smiles back.

  
“The man in Miss Verger’s room do you know who he is?”

  
She leans in closer, he can smell her perfume even more strongly now as well as the hairspray in her hair and the thick red lipstick she has used on her lips which are slightly parted to reveal perfect teeth. She is intriguing to him, she always seems to know what is going on in the hospital before anyone else does but is not openly gossipy, she is just very observant, it’s a trait he appreciates.

  
“Ah,” she says glad she has information he needs, glad to be _useful_. “I am not sure of his name he came in about ten minutes ago asking which room she was in, apparently they work together. I think it might be _him_.”

  
Hannibal quirks an eyebrow at her. “Him?”

  
“The author Miss Verger does the cover art for.” Bedelia responds with a glee that she seems to know much more about this subject than Hannibal, she enjoys having knowledge.

  
“The author? I did not realise Miss Verger had a job outside of being an heiress.” It seemed to him that Mason kept a very close hold on her.

  
“Oh yes, they try to keep it under wraps, it’s not something the family want spread about but Margot is an artist, she paints covers for detective novels. She used to do a few different authors but then started to work with W.B. Graham and now does his covers _exclusively_.”

  
Hannibal manages to remain calm, his face only registering a slight interest. “I see.” He responds.

  
“Do you read them? His books are a guilty pleasure of mine I admit.” She says this with as much seduction in her voice as she can manage. Hannibal smiles sweetly.

  
“No I don’t seem to find the time for reading much other than medical textbooks.” He lies easily.

  
“Doctor you must have some guilty pleasures? It can’t be all work and no play.” She says this and places her hand, lacquered red nails, gently against the soft fabric of his suit on his arm.

 _  
You have no idea_ , he thinks as he imagines what he could do to her if he decided. Her blood could be as bright as her lips against her skin if he desired it.

  
“So the woman who rang earlier asking about Margot?” He had thought she was something to do with the Verger estate and she had been vague about how she knew Margot he had wondered if she was perhaps a reporter.

  
“I believe she was from the publishing house Bloom Novels.”

  
He had seen it was Bloom Novels that published ‘Mounted Murder’ but he had no reason to connect Margot to any of this. He had no idea she was an artist of course her brother had not mentioned it as clearly he did not consider her as such. Hannibal did though as it was the cover that had attracted his attention to the book in the first place. She was very talented, he was glad she had not damaged her hands in the accident.

  
“I see.” Hannibal says smoothly. “As always Bedelia” he places emphasis on her name and she smirks “you have been infinitely helpful. I am in your debt.”

  
Hannibal carefully removes her hand from his arm, holding the fingers delicately he places a chaste kiss to the tips of her fingers.

  
“It was my pleasure Doctor you know that if there is anything I can do for you, you only need to ask.” She says as he lets go of his hand.

  
“The pleasure as always Bedelia is all mine and I shall bear your generosity in mind.” He gives her a wink before he leaves just to seal the deal, he smiles as he walks down the hall to Margot’s room.

\--------  
“Thank you so much for coming Will I really appreciate it I know you don’t like…” Margot’s voice trails off and she bites her lower lip.

  
Will smiles “leaving the house, no that’s true and I already left once today so you are doubly lucky.”

  
She smiles weakly and it pulls at Will to see her like this “I must be truly special.”

  
He covers her hand with his and squeezes it “indeed you are.”

  
She looks at him briefly, tears are forming in her eyes and he lets silence settle between them for a moment as she stares out of the window at the snow falling heavily.

  
“I’m sorry Margot.” Will says quietly.

  
She turns to look at him biting her lower lip again “don’t please Will, I don’t want your-“

  
“Pity? It’s not pity Margot, I am just sorry.” He squeezes her hand again.

  
She shakes her head to try and dispel the tears “will you read to me?” Whenever he finishes a book he always reads it to her, she comes by his apartment and lies on his bed while he paces up and down reading from the manuscript, pages falling on the floor and she always helps him gather them up again.

  
“I don’t have any-“ he stops realising he does. He has ‘Mounted Murder’ in his coat pocket from this morning, he smiles and scrabbles around finding it in his coat pocket that he has draped over the arm of the chair, he holds it up victorious. “I bought it this morning!”

  
“You bought a copy of your own book?” Margot laughs and her smile reaches the edges of her eyes.

  
“Don’t ask.” He says, _I was defending your honour,_ Will thinks and smiles.

  
She laughs and he sits back getting comfortable and starts to read, Margot closes her eyes and lets his voice wash over her.  
\------

 

Hannibal carefully watches from the door as Mr Graham reads to Margot from the novel that Hannibal picked up and read throughout the night. He watches the man’s profile as the words leave his mouth. He watches the shape his lips make as he speaks Hannibal can almost hear the gentle timbre of his voice through the door. He imagines it lulling and deep, comforting, reading those words that he devoured last night in a fervour. All those images, insights, moments between the characters all crafted so beautifully to a specific and mesmerising design. Hannibal tries not to imagine Mr Graham reading to him, he tries not to think of those words as gift meant just for him.

  
He wishes he could enter the room unnoticed as he doesn’t want to break the spell Mr Graham is casting right now, but he also knows he cannot linger outside Margot’s room for too long without arousing suspicion. He should leave, he could even ask Bedelia to call him when Will leaves, get her to stop him so Hannibal can talk to him. Under what pretence? Hannibal wanders and cannot think of anything that would make sense. He needs to move, he needs to step away from this door and stop thinking about W.B. Graham.

  
Hannibal realises he doesn’t even know this man’s first name, if W.B. Graham is even his real name it could be a pen name. He knows nothing about this man but he feels like he knows him intimately and that Mr Graham knows him too. They are connected, Hannibal can feel it flowing in the marrow of his bones. He wants to open up Mr Graham’s mind, he wants to see himself reflected back in the folds of that mind. He wants to lap up that imagination, feast on that mind. He is paralysed by his intrigue it’s upsetting just how much this man has managed to crawl underneath Hannibal’s defences and they haven’t even met.

  
Yet Hannibal can feel that the fates or destiny, if he was sentimental enough to believe in such things, are pulling them together.    _Margot was brought to me, to my surgery, my car broke down, my eyes found that book._ He feels ridiculous thinking these thoughts but these moments do not happen to him, he does not get drawn to people they are drawn to him, certainly, but never the other way around. He is the one in control of his own orbit. Yet here he is stood outside Margot Verger’s hospital room eavesdropping. He is mildly disgusted with himself.

Just as he is about to move away he realises Will has stopped reading. Margot has fallen asleep and Will watches her for a few moments before he places the book face down on the floor by his chair he gets up and stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders. Will then bends down and delves into his inside coat pocket for what looks like a flask, he unscrews the top of it and takes a swig. Hannibal smiles definitely an alcoholic then, it’s barely midday.

  
Will spots Hannibal then and smiles at him, Hannibal attempts to look as if he is just coming into the room and hasn’t been lurking outside for quite some time. Will puts the flask away and Hannibal watches him but doesn’t comment.

  
“She’s just fallen asleep” Will says in a whisper, “do you mind checking on her later?”  
Hannibal attempts to gather himself and nods and leaves the room, Will follows him and gently shuts the door behind him. “Doctor Lecter?” Will says and Hannibal turns around and looks directly at Will who immediately looks away from the direct eye contact. Interesting, Hannibal thinks.

  
“Yes, and you are?” Hannibal inquires as if he didn’t already know.

  
“Sorry” Will mumbles and awkwardly holds out his hand to Hannibal who looks at it dumb founded for a moment and then takes it in a swift perfunctory handshake. “Will Graham, I work with Margot, she paints the covers of my books.”

  
Hannibal pretends to look suitably impressed “a writer? Anything I would have heard of?”

  
Will laughs and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up even more “oh just those trashy detective novels the Jack Crawford series I doubt you would have heard of them.”  
Hannibal makes a show of thinking about it before he responds “I am afraid I don’t have much time for fiction but I believe I may have seen the Nurses with something of the like, rings a bell.”

  
Will smiles and is not at all surprised or insulted by this response “it’s okay I know my audience and you definitely do not fit.” Before Hannibal can enquire further as to what Will might mean by that he continues to speak. “How is she? I know I’m not family but I am the closest thing she has to it. I assume you have met her brother?” Hannibal nods and grimaces. “Exactly, she is my friend, my only friend actually, and I think I might be her only friend too. Sounds pathetic I know but… well what can you tell me?”

  
Hannibal considers this and the way Will is now attempting to look at him as a concession and he smiles. “I doubt that Mason will object to me discussing her condition as he does not seem especially moved by it.” Will barks a laugh at that and nods his head. “However I do not want to betray Miss Verger’s confidence.”

  
Will smiles at that “she told me about the hysterectomy. I just want to know if she is going to be okay?”

  
Hannibal nods and takes a step closer to Will who does not move away. “Physically she should recover, she is already improving from yesterday. Her wounds will heal. It will take time and she will be in pain but she will make a complete recovery.”

  
“Physically?” Will says. “What about her mood, her mind? I mean this is a loss that I imagine some women would find it very hard to recover from.”

  
Hannibal wonders at how close Margot and Will are, does he know about Margot’s ‘proclivities’ as Mason put it? Does Will perhaps have some misplaced affection for her? Maybe they are not as close as Will believes them to be.

  
“Some, yes, some can find it hard especially as she is so young.” He watches Will to see if there is any discernible reaction to this statement. Will runs his hand through his hair again and looks through the window at Margot so Hannibal cannot tell if his face gave anything away. “Everyone reacts to loss differently," Hannibal continues, "it will take time for her to come to terms with it.”

  
Will nods, he knows the stages of loss far too well. His loss is waiting for him back home with a scar on her neck, pale translucent skin, a voice and a face only he can see. “How long will she have to stay here?”

  
“At least the rest of the week we will keep an eye on her, ensure there are no complications from the surgery and that she is healing properly.” Hannibal wishes Will would turn and look at him again, his finger are twitching with how much he longs for it.

  
Eventually Will does turn and actually look at Hannibal with his blue eyes and Hannibal suddenly feels a little short of breath under such scrutiny. “Thank you Doctor.” Will says and Hannibal manages a nod.

  
“I will check on her later as you requested, she needs her rest. If there is anything she needs please do not hesitate to contact me. The nurses can give you my details and always know how to get a hold of me if I am needed.” Hannibal wants to stay and listen to Will’s voice more he knows it is going to echo around his head for the rest of the day, he thinks of a fine red wine swilling around a glass.

  
“Thank you Doctor, its appreciated. Could I ask a favour?”

  
Anything, Hannibal thinks before he can stop himself, “of course.”

  
“Can I ask that if anything changes you call me? I don’t trust Mason to be there for her if she needs someone.”

  
Hannibal smiles inwardly as this means he can ask for Will’s details without suspicion, outwardly he looks thoughtful. “Well it’s against policy but I agree with you that Mason is not the best support system. I will discuss it with Margot later but if you leave your details for me at the Nurses’ station I am sure we can come to an arrangement.”

  
“Of course, thank you Doctor. I am going to stay for a little longer if that’s ok?”

  
“Yes that’s fine, visiting hours don’t end for another hour, I will check in on her afterwards.” Hannibal smiles as Will thanks him again and goes back into Margot’s room.

  
_Interesting_ , Hannibal thinks as he makes his way back down the corridor towards Bedelia of whom he has another favour to ask.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are like a brand new bottle of bourbon and kudos are a freshly lit cigarette. 
> 
> Xxxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has a gift he wants to give Will...

Miriam Lass arrives at the hospital. She stands outside finishing her cigarette before going in. It’s finally stopped snowing, still cold though, bone chillingly cold. The sky today is clear and blue the sunlight is glistening on the snowdrifts. She shivers and drops her cigarette butt on the pavement putting it out with the sole of her shoe. Turning around she makes her way into the hospital, which is not much warmer than outside. Looking at the signs she sighs seeing the first person on her list is on the tenth floor. She hates elevators, she hates small spaces, she doesn’t like to be confined. She knows it’s ridiculous. She is aware that she has faced much more terrifying situations in her work than taking an elevator. Knowing all this does not, however, comfort her or remove the fear. She thinks about having another cigarette but decides against it.

 _You already had three outside,_ she seems to be thinking in Bev’s voice lately it’s disconcerting to say the least.

 _  
You can do this._ She thinks this in her own voice as she presses the button and waits for the elevator. The doors open, the grate is pulled harshly across by a scruffy looking man who quickly barges past her almost hitting her arm, he has his hat pulled low down over his face and is scrambling around in his pockets for something. He doesn’t notice her. She looks at him as he makes his way outside and lights a cigarette then takes a long drink from a hip flask before making his way back out into the snow. She shakes her head and turns to enter the lift, closing the grate after her. She presses the button for the tenth floor and closes her eyes as the doors close.

  
Thankfully the lift doesn’t take too long to get the tenth floor so when Miriam gets there she is not too anxious. She makes her way to the Nurse station where a very beautiful woman with blonde hair and striking bone structure is standing looking at her.

  
“Hello, my name is Detective Lass I need to speak to a Doctor Lecter, is he available?” Lass gauges the reaction to this, the Nurse does not give very much away just a slow blinking of her eyes.

  
“He is. I believe he is just checking in on a patient in room twelve.” The nurse has a very rich voice and it makes Lass feel strangely on edge.

  
“Thank you.” Lass says as the Nurse points to the direction of room twelve.

  
As Miriam makes her way down the corridor she is acutely aware that she is still being watched by the Nurse, she ignores it and carries on walking. Turning the corner she sees a very well dressed man leaving room twelve, he is very tall and lean, his hair is peppered silver and blonde, his cheekbones are very striking, his eyes a deep brown. She stops and fishes out her ID just as he looks at her.

  
“Doctor Lecter?” Miriam manages.

  
He straightens and walks closer to her, his face is unreadable and she feels small with the very obvious height difference. “Yes I am he.” The Doctor has an accent, his voice is smooth and slips under her skin like wine.

  
“Hello, I am Detective Miriam Lass.” She holds out her badge which he makes a point of bending down to peer at. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”  
He straightens up and looks at her, she cannot read what he is thinking but then he smiles and she cannot help the slight blush that creeps up unbidden on her skin. “Of course,” he says smoothly “I was just heading to my office please join me.” He motions past her and she smiles back and nods. They begin to walk to his office. “May I ask what this is in regards to?” She is trying not to be distracted by that accent.

  
“Of course, it’s just a routine enquiry I will be talking to all the Surgeon’s on staff. You are just the first on my list.”

  
“Really? Any particular reason why I'm at the top?”

  
“Not really it’s random.” Bev had written several names on the list many of them based at John Hopkins but not all. Lass has sent some Detectives to talk to the others and she took John Hopkins. “We are talking to all the Surgeon’s in the Baltimore area.”

  
They arrive at the door to Doctor Lecter’s office, his name is painted in gold on the dark wood. He fishes out a key and opens the door, holding it for her to go through, after which he closes it and turns on the main light. “Please take a seat.” He says and she notices the two large leather wingback chairs in front of his rather imposing desk. “Can I get you a drink? I have whiskey or I can get one of the Nurses to get some coffee.” He says this as he walks to the small crystal decanter and glasses he has on a sideboard.

  
“No, thank you. I’m on duty and unlike many in my profession I don’t drink when I’m on duty and I think I’ve probably already had too much coffee.” She says and he smiles again.

  
Hannibal makes his way to his desk chair and sits down, Lass looks around the quite large office before taking a seat. There are dark wood bookshelves lining most of the room, filled with journals, textbooks and notebooks which have some kind of colour coded filing system she assumes they are of his Patients histories. There are a few small statues, one of a stag, some framed anatomy drawings on the wall that doesn’t have book shelves behind his desk. The wall is painted a deep red which combined with the wood makes the room seem quite severe. She sits down on one of the chairs, perched on the edge.

  
“So what is it I can help you with Detective Lass?” Hannibal says as he leans forward resting his arms on his desk, hands clasped together. She notices his hands, _slender fingers,_ she thinks.

  
“I am investigating a series of murders where organs have been surgically removed.”

  
“I have not seen this in the newspapers.” He says, his voice is kind she thinks, she imagines he has good bedside manner.

  
“Well that particular detail has been kept out of the papers. The murders are not technically linked either.”

  
“Technically?”

  
“I believe there is a link but I am yet to prove it conclusively. The idea of there being a mass murderer this prolific is something not many can, or are willing to, wrap their heads around.” She says this with a noticeable trace of bitterness.

  
“How many murders?”

  
“I can’t go into too much detail but if it is the same person they have been active for at least the last ten years.” She sometimes wonders if it’s longer, it would take time to hone such a craft after all.

  
“That is both strangely fascinating and terrifying.”

  
“Yes.” She feels the same mixture of emotions every time she looks at the crime scene photos in her office.

  
“And this killer of yours removes their victim’s organs? Is that how they die?”

  
“They are removed surgically it’s not always the cause of death, they are usually alive when they are removed. It is also done with an amount of skill that would not be common, only someone trained with medical knowledge would be capable.”

  
“You believe it could be a Surgeon that is still practicing?” Lass nods and Doctor Lecter leans back in his chair, hands now hidden in his lap he looks away at the bookshelves for a moment before once again meeting her eyes. “That is another unsettling thought.”

  
“It could be or it could be someone who has trained as a Surgeon but isn't practising. I am just looking into all possibilities.” She says and he nods. “I just wanted to show you a list of names and see if you recognised any of them. If you had treated any of them or knew of anyone who would have treated them.” Miriam removes one of copies of the typed list of names from her pocket, unfolding it she slides it across the desk for him to take.

  
Hannibal leans forward and takes the paper, he picks it up and reads the names carefully.  
“Hmm, I will of course pass this on to my Clerk and the Nurses they will know better than me. I can get my Clerk, Mr Tier, to cross reference the names. I am afraid I see so many people I cannot remember all their names despite being blessed with a very good memory.” He reads the names, knowing and remembering every one of them. “There are a few I think who were patients of mine, this last one, the Priest? Was he the one that was found in the church on Monday?”

  
“Yes he was.” Lass inwardly curses Zeller once more.

  
“You believe he might have been a victim of your killer?”

  
“Yes it would fit. Did you know him?”

  
“No, I didn’t. I know that nuns from that church do visit patients here but I do not know any of them, he may have visited the hospital but I never encountered him. There are a few names on this list which I do recognise. I can have Mr Tier run up a more comprehensive list if you like? I keep extensive notes on all my patients I can get copies of them if some were indeed patients of mine.”

  
Lass smiles “yes that would be very helpful. I will check with the Nurses before I leave as well.”

  
“Of course. Do you have a card so I can call you when I have the information?”

  
Miriam fishes out a card from her other pocket and places it on his desk which he takes. “Thank you I will be in touch.”

  
“Thank you so much for your time Doctor.” She stands and he then smoothly gets up, placing the card on his desk.

  
“Let me show you out.”

  
“Oh no I can find my way. I have others to speak to before I go. Thank you again Doctor.”

  
“Of course it was my pleasure.” He extends his hand for her to shake which she does, “anything I can do to help law enforcement.”

  
\---------

  
_Jack takes a deep breath before entering the imposing building he has not seen his partner for ten years. Almost as long as they were actually partners. He shakes his head at the thought of it. Jack mostly manages to keep the thoughts of Liam from his mind, he has pushed all memory of that man far away. It still finds him sometimes at night when he can’t sleep, which has been happening more these days since Bella became ill. He is haunted by his mistakes more and more with the reminder of mortality that his wife’s illness has become._

_  
He makes his way up the steps. He hates these places, clanking metal doors and loud buzzing like the rattling of chains by restless souls. These places are filled with people he has sent here. He reminds himself that this place should also be a testament to his successes as much as his failures. It doesn’t feel like that though. He feels tainted even before he sets eyes on his partner._

_  
His partner, who was killing people for most of the time they were working together and he didn’t see it, he never suspected it. The memory of that sickening knowledge hitting his mind like a punch in the gut is something he will never forget. He grieved the man he thought Liam was, he mourned him as if he had died, which in some ways he had even if he had never actually existed. It broke Jack’s heart._

_  
Now Jack is about to enter the cage he threw Liam in. Old wounds splitting open like ripped stitches, blood oozing out of the newly ripped flesh._

This is going to hurt _, he thinks._

Alana is enjoying Will’s new book it’s intriguing. She always loved the partner (well before he revealed himself as the killer) he reminded her of Will, she suspected there was a bit of the author inserting himself into his book. She hopes he doesn't kill off Bella too soon though but it's not looking good. She always liked Bella.

  
She finds her mind is still wandering to Margot though. She saw her yesterday evening having just missed Will apparently, who promised to be back to read his novel to her as usual so she can do the art for it when she is better. Alana had couriered over a copy to Will’s for this purpose. Alana knew without asking that Will would not be using a different artist for the cover, he would delay the publishing rather than change from Margot. They have a connection which Alana will not mess with.

  
Margot had seemed to be in good spirits or at least putting a brave face on it. She looked so fragile though it was strange to see her like that she is usually a force, a whirlwind of strength, a woman at war. Which of course she always is against her brother. Alana was glad that Mason was not there apparently he hasn’t been to see her since after the surgery which does not surprise Alana at all. She has managed to never meet him and she wonders what she would do if she did.

  
She takes another drag of her cigarillo as she leans back in her chair, she has a small glass of whiskey she is nursing as she reads. She doesn’t normally drink but after the last few days she feels she needs one. Whiskey and Will’s book always go well together as his muse is generally fuelled by bourbon and cigarettes. She thinks she should really go by his apartment and properly meet him, but she also likes this strange relationship they have over the phone and through the written word. There is a romance to it that is appealing to her.

  
She takes a sip of whiskey and keeps reading…

  
_Liam is sitting with his hands cuffed to the table, feet cuffed to the chair, jumpsuit and all with a smile on his face when Jack walks in._

_  
“Jack it’s been so long. How is Bella? I heard she was ill.”_

_  
Jack takes a deep breath as he closes the door behind him, grip tightening on the file he holds in his hand. Keep it together, he thinks as he turns around to face him._

_  
“Hello Liam.” He says evenly and sits down in the chair opposite him, he places the file on the table. “I have some questions for you.”_

_  
“Straight to business? Come on Jack it’s been years don’t you want to reminisce? Talk about old times, you and me?” Liam is revelling in this and it is taking all of Jack’s self-control not to reach across the table and hit him._

_  
Jack looks at him meeting his dark eyes “there is nothing to reminisce about. That part of my life is over with, that man that I worked with is dead. You are not him.”_

_  
Liam huffs a laugh “we are one and the same man Jack I assure you I am just as much him as I always was. Just because you wouldn’t see it doesn’t mean we didn’t have a relationship. I still consider you a friend Jack, even if you haven’t visited me for all these years.”_

_  
“I do not consider you a friend Liam, not anymore. The light from friendship won’t reach us for a millions years.”_

_  
“That hurts Jack, really, you wound me.”_

_  
Jack does not react but opens the file “I am here to talk about a case.”_

_  
“Just like old times? Admit it you came to get the old scent again.”_

_  
Jack takes the letter which was intercepted by the prison from the file and places it in front of Liam so he can read it. “You have a fan.”_

_  
Liam doesn’t look at the letter straight away still intent on looking at Jack. Eventually he lowers his eyes and reads. Jack watches Liam read every word, trying to see a reaction, there is none._

_  
“He indeed does sound like a kindred spirit. How nice to be appreciated.” Jack inwardly winces and then takes the pictures of the murders and turns them so Liam can see them in all their macabre glory. The entire family slain, fragments of mirrors placed on their eyes and mouths. Liam smiles. “Beautiful.”_

_  
“That is not a word I would use to describe this.”_

_  
“You never could see the beauty in violence Jack, you see the world in such black and white terms. I feel sad for your limited experience.”_

_  
“You do not need to feel anything about any of my experience. I just want to borrow your imagination.”_

_  
Liam sits back as much as he can, his chains clanks against the table and Jack once again thinks of restless spirits, he feels like a restless spirit._

  
_“Now Jack you can’t just come in here after all these years of radio silence and expect me to just do you a favour.”_

_  
“I thought we were friends,” Jack says evenly, “friends do friends favours.”_

_  
“So we are friends now? When it suits you.”_

_  
“If it gets me what I need then yes you can call us friends.”_

_  
“Well if we are friends then please do me the courtesy of answering my question. I have been so worried since I heard about Bella.”_

_  
Jack makes a mental note to find out how Liam knows about Bella. He sighs “if I answer your question you will answer mine.”_

_  
“Quid pro quo. An answer for an answer.”_

_  
“Fine.” Jack takes a deep breath. “Bella is not doing well she only has a few months left.” Jack notices the reaction to this news, a slight frown._

_  
“How awful Jack I am so very sorry.”_

  
_“Save your sympathy and answer the question, do you have any idea who this could be?”_

_  
Liam sucks in a deep breath and responds “no I am afraid I have no idea, I never encountered anyone who was on the same page as me. It’s interesting, perhaps I inspired him._ ”

_  
Jack shudders at the thought but he is probably right. “What do you see when you look at these? What kind of person do you think he could be?”_

_  
Liam was always better at understanding killers than him, Jack now knows why._

_  
“Uh uh” Liam shakes his head. “A question for a question dear Jack. Why have you not visited me in all these years?”_

  
_Jack sighs and leans back in his chair folding his arms across his chest “better things to do.”  
Liam laughs at that and Jack smiles thinly. “Can’t argue with that.” Liam says and leans forward to look at the pictures again. After a few moments he speaks “he is not like me. His design is just evolving, this is the first time he has killed, he has been thinking about it for some time but this is his first. I do believe there will be more, I would imagine he has the taste for it now. Once you get a whiff of the pleasure it’s hard to stop chasing the smell of the hunt.”_

_  
Jack grimaces “that is something I will have to take your word on. Why do you think he has written to you? He must have known we would intercept it.”_

_  
Liam purses his lips and looks up at Jack “have you missed me Jack?”_

  
_“I have mourned the man I thought you were, I have not missed you. Answer the question.”  
Liam doesn’t smile at that, he almost looks hurt which makes Jack feel as if he may have won a small victory._

_  
“I would imagine he feels misunderstood, perhaps he is looking for a kindred spirit. He is clearly intelligent I assume he has left no evidence behind?” Jack nods. “Then I would imagine he knows the letter would have been intercepted because perhaps he wants you to stop him. He wants to be seen, to be recognised. It can be hard to never be understood. Is that not what we all long for? Acceptance and understanding?”_

_  
Jack leans forward and looks down at the pictures and then up again at Liam W.B. Hagrl._

_"Everyone may be looking for it, Liam, but not everyone deserves it.”_

 

\------

Will made it back to his apartment to find Abigail waiting for him as usual. He finished his hip flask on the way home, as well as the packet of cigarettes he had bought. Once his coat and hat are removed he pours himself a glass of bourbon and opens the new packet of cigarettes lighting one.

  
_How is she?_

  
Will takes a large gulp of bourbon to wash down the nicotine causing a familiar and pleasant burn at the back his throat. “Shattered but not broken, she’s strong.”

  
Abigail nods in agreement _she is. What now?_

  
Will looks at her and then downs the rest of his drink, quickly pouring another “we drink until we pass out. Maybe some music this evening? How do you feel about Glenn Miller?”

  
Abigail rolls her eyes she knows what this means. Complaints from the neighbours after Will has passed out and left the record on to play through until there is no other sound in his apartment than the skipping of a needle and his deep, broken breathing. Will smiles.

  
——-

He had seen her at the hospital a few months earlier she was one of the volunteer candy stripers. They help out with administrative jobs, strip beds, help the nurses and take samples to the lab. Most of them are helpful and polite and do a job which Hannibal admires young people taking the time out to do. Cassie Boyle had added herself to his list when she was having a cigarette outside the hospital and had blown smoke in his face as he was leaving. She had not apologised for this rudeness, in fact she had not even acknowledged that she had done it.

  
Hannibal had enquired as to who she was and been informed by Nurse Du Maurier in her usual efficient manner. He had been wondering when an opportunity would arise and the moment he had decided to re-enact the cover of ‘Mounted Murder’ he knew she would be perfect.

  
She looked just like the girl on the cover, pale skin, long dark hair. Hannibal was standing back admiring his work and feeling a great deal of pride over the picture he had managed to paint. Hannibal had removed her lungs before she eventually died, he had hoped that was the last thing she felt before she died but he couldn't be sure. He had mounted her dead body on the stags head with perfect precision reflecting the cover of Will Graham’s book admirably he thought.

  
Cassie Boyle was naked and mounted on the horns of the stag which pierced her body in exactly the same places as the painting. Her hair was a dark waterfall flowing behind her, her pale skin almost luminous in the moonlight. Hannibal had debated adding the fabric which covered her modesty in the picture but having read the book now and there being no mention of it he decided to stay true to Will’s design. He assumed that the fabric had been a concession of the publishers. This was for W.B. Graham and him alone.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are the wine Hannibal drinks after a good murder. Kudos is the coffee Miriam drinks all day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's gift to Will is found by Lass. Will is about to get drawn into Hannibal's world...

Hannibal carries the box of patient files Randal Tier collected of all the patients that are on Miriam Lass’ list.  He was going to courier them over to her but found he could not resist the chance to see what she may have amassed on him during her investigation.   The urge to peep behind the curtain, as it were, was irresistible.  He walks into the police station and speaks to the desk sergeant announcing who he is and if he could give the files to Lass personally.  He gives the excuse that there is sensitive information contained in them and he wants to make sure they are in the right hands.  He will leave them if he has to but he is hoping that Lass will indulge him.

She does.   In fact she comes down to meet him personally and invites him to her office.  He follows her eagerly up the stairs to the inner sanctum of her office, he is almost breathless when he enters and sees the last ten years of his work displayed on her walls.

“Sorry if it’s a bit gruesome in here I can cover them if you like.”  Lass belatedly realises that not everyone is comfortable with murder victims being displayed so openly.

He places the box on the small table by the sofa and then straightens up looking at the pictures, “no it’s fine I am a Surgeon I am used to gruesome.”

She laughs “yes, yes I suppose you are.  Can I offer you some coffee?”

“Yes that would be lovely thank you.”

“Please take a seat.”  Lass offers the wooden chair on the other side of her desk which is a lot less musty than the sofa. 

Hannibal smiles tilting his head he acquiesces and then removes his hat, leather gloves and coat placing the gloves in the pocket of his coat.  Lass takes them all from him and hangs them on the coat stand in the corner as he takes a seat.  She pours them both cups of coffee from the pot she has in her office, offers him cream and sugar which he declines, he takes the mug from her and she moves to sit on her desk chair opposite him.

“Thank you for coming all the way over with the files.”  Lass sips at the coffee and is glad that she made a fresh pot before he came in, as it’s not actually too stale for once.

“Not a problem at all, it was the least I could do.  I spoke to my other colleagues so this box also includes notes from anyone they know.”  He had gotten Tier and Nurse Du Maurier on the case to seem helpful, in truth he had thought perhaps it was best he limit being surprised by law enforcement.

“That’s incredibly helpful thank you.” Lass looked at the well-dressed man sat in her office, his face was open and soft.  He was wearing a very expensive suit, dark grey double-breasted with a crisp white shirt and a grey diagonal striped tie.  She thought of all the crumpled male officers and Detectives she works with, she thinks of herself currently in the same clothes she was wearing yesterday and suddenly feels more inadequate than she has in a while.  She absently tucks a strand of escaped hair behind her ear.

“Anything I can do please let me know.  If I am honest I have always been fascinated with law enforcement.”  He sips at his coffee and is completely aware of every word he speaks, he is playing a dangerous game and he knows he is being assessed right now but he also knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Really?”  Lass finds that strange for a man such as him, a young and successful Surgeon to have even thought about law enforcement.

“Yes I know it’s a bit strange but I have treated a few officers in my time in the emergency room and they are always such a fascinating characters.  I always feel as if they live in a world where not many get to glimpse.  You all see and deal with things that most people would never encounter in their lives, nor want to, and yet you do it willingly.”

She smiles at that, easily charmed by his seemingly harmless demeanor. “I often feel like that, as if we are living in a world most people don’t.  I suppose our job is to keep as many people as we can from ever having to encounter it.  You must feel the same way I mean how many people see the inside of another human being on a regular basis.”

“Indeed” he says there are not many people who sees what he sees, not many who could even conceive of the way he sees the world.  His thoughts drift to Will Graham and he smiles. “We both live in worlds not many have the stomach for.”

She laughs “yes, and not many women.”

“I would never have said but yes as you bring it up, not many women would have the stuff to make to lead homicide detective, you are very impressive Miss Lass.”  He has always found her impressive, watching her rise up the ranks with tenacity and intelligence she is truly one of a kind.

“I had a cop for a father and I was cut from the same cloth so no choice really but to follow in his footsteps.  I was lucky he encouraged me, always had my back.”  She looks at the lighter on her desk that he had given her when she made Detective and a wistful smile appears on her face.  She thinks of his no nonsense advice, the way he would just tell her to not let the bastards get you down, that she was worth a thousand of those useless pieces of shit.  He had a colourful mouth, hearing him swear was like music to her ears and she misses it.

“Ahh he sounds like he was very progressive.”

She laughs “in some ways and in others not.  I was his only child so I had to either become a cop or marry one and he always said if I married one he would never forgive me.”

Hannibal laughs, he is genuinely charmed by her it’s nice to be finally meeting her.  “Your mother? Was she supportive of your choice?”

Lass looks a little sad for a moment and then responds “she died when I was young, shot in the street, a mugging gone wrong.  I guess that’s also why I wanted to become a cop.”  _Why am I telling him all this_ , she thinks _, he just has a way about him._

“Oh I am so sorry.  Well you have done them both very proud.”

“What about you Doctor?  What led you to become a Surgeon?”

“Ah, well I was born in Lithuania my parents and my sister died when I was younger and I was brought up by my Aunt who always encouraged me to reach my potential.  I always had an interest in anatomy so it seemed a natural progression.   America seemed the place to achieve my dreams, I suppose I am a product of that ideal.”  In many ways this was true, America had afforded him many opportunities and he was grateful for it.  In other ways he found the country brash and rude, however this just meant more opportunities to hunt.

“You have led an interesting life Doctor.”

He smiles gently “to some perhaps, most of my days I spend at the hospital either in surgery or writing articles for journals all very boring.”

She noticed he does not wear a ring which is surprising of a man of his success and station to be unattached, he is also incredibly, not handsome no, more like beautiful which is a strange word to describe a man but it suits with him.

“Not much time for anything else.”  She says knowing the feeling of being consumed by your work.

Hannibal smiles as he tries not to look around her office at her obsession.  _I am here, my dear, the artist of your obsession and yet you cannot see me.  I would never let you._

\---------

 

Margot stares at the ceiling she is bored.  She is in pain and bored.  The worst combination.  Being left in this lonely room with nothing but her pain and thoughts is a new kind of torture her brother is visiting upon her.  Not that she wants or expects a visit from him. That is part of the torture though the knowledge that he may appear at any moment to mock her.  She turns her head and looks out of the window, it’s snowing again and she sighs. 

“Hey.” That voice she would know it anywhere and she doesn’t need to turn her head to know it’s Will.

She smiles “hey Will.” 

He smiles as she turns her head to look at him.  He is carrying a large envelope and she grins wider at what it could be.

“Did you get it?” She asks hopefully.

“Yes, Alana always has it copied before she even reads it I asked her for the copy to read to you.”  He places it down on her bed as he removes his coat, hat and scarf putting them all on one of the chairs.  He then places his hand over hers and squeezes it slightly, “how are you?”  His hands are cold and she wonders where his gloves are, if he has any gloves, when she gets out of here she is going to buy him some.

“Bored out of mind so very glad to see you.”  She smiles and squeezes his hand back.  He winks at her then removes his hand from hers and sits down.  He picks up the envelope and opens it removing the manuscript.  “You know you can use someone else if you want to? To do the cover.  It might be some time before I am back on my feet.”

He looks at her in mock shock and she laughs “Margot I know you are unwell but no one said anything about your head being wrong.  It’s you or nothing my dear we are stuck with each other like an old married couple.”

She laughs at that “in your dreams.”

He sighs as yes actually he does sometimes dream but he also knows that Margot does not swing his way. “Sometimes.”  He grins.

“Never tell me.”  She closes her eyes and cringes at the thought of what Will might dream about.

He laughs “promise.”

——-

They are all stood in a field just outside Baltimore its freezing and they all wish they were somewhere else.  The body of a young girl identified as Cassie Boyle has been mounted, nude on a stags head, there is a large surgical scar on her torso that made Lass’ blood run cold. _Another one._   She thinks. The body is frozen now and getting it off the stags head is going to be extremely difficult.  They have to take as many pictures and gather as much evidence as they can at the scene because who know what state the body will be in by the time they manage to get it back to the lab.  Brian is being particularly quiet as he takes pictures, he is still reaming from Lass’ telling off.  Although now he thinks he would almost prefer being shouted out over the icy silence he is currently being treated with.

Bev is looking at the scene and is struck by how familiar it looks she can’t quite think where she has seen this before but she knows she has.  Lass comes up and stands next to her.   Lass is smoking and Bev moves slightly apart from her even though they are outside because she hates the smell.  Lass realises and mumbles an apology, she takes a last drag and then puts it out, placing the stub in her pocket.

“What's bothering you?” Lass asks.

“I can’t put my finger on it.” Bev responds.

Jimmy who has heard this exchange stands up from looking at the stags head and turns to offer his opinion “what could possibly bother you about a dead woman mounted on a stags head in the middle of nowhere?”

Lass and Bev both give him a look of contempt and he is silenced so goes back to his work.

Bev sighs again she can’t tear her eyes away from “it just looks so familiar.”

“Familiar?” Lass repeats.

“Yeah, something about it, I’ve seen this before I just cannot think where.” It’s bothering her, it has been since she saw it.  Her first feeling was _familiarity._

“You mean another case?”

“No, I don’t think so I mean we would all remember if it was a case, right?”  Lass nods.  “No it’s something else I just can’t put my finger on what it is! It feels like it’s meant to remind the viewer of something, it’s a homage to something almost.”

Lass looks at the body again with this thought and tries to think what it could be a homage to?  “A painting?”

“Maybe.”  Bev thinks, yes that seems to ring a bell with her, _a painting,_ she thinks _._

Jimmy has finished whatever he was doing and decides to come and stand by Bev and Lass. “Never pegged you for an art aficionado Bev.” 

“I’m not.” Bev replies but doesn’t look at Jimmy. “I mean maybe I’ve just seen it in passing I don’t know it just seems familiar.”

“Maybe its reminding you of those trashy crime novels you read that you think no one knows about.”  Jimmy says, he has caught her reading them a few times. “It does have that feel about it.”

Bev smiles and looks at Jimmy she hugs him and he looks shocked, she lets him go quickly as Lass laughs. “That's it! Jimmy that's it!  What was it called something so obvious and ridiculous… ‘Mounted Murder’ that was it! Yes this is the cover from “Mounter Murder’ boss I am sure of it.”

“You read trashy crime novels?”  Lass is surprised she wouldn't suspect this of Bev.

“Yes, yes I know why would I read about what I see every day?!  But you will be glad of it now because this is a lead.  This is exactly the same as the cover of ‘Mounted Murder’ by W.B. Graham I am absolutely sure of it!”

 

\------

_He sits outside in their garden in the snow watching.  He sees them playing out the act of a normal, happy family life.  He can see the cracks though, the crevasses into which they will all fall at his hands.  They long to be normal, mundane but he will elevate them above them that, they will become so much more._

_He waits until a perfect full moon, clear night until he attacks he is quick, precise no mercy.  When they are all dead he can finally see.  It is only then he can truly take the time to appreciate his design.  It’s quiet even in his head, nothing but black blood in the moonlight and he thinks ‘it’s beautiful.’_

 

Alana sighs this one is dark.  Dead families that’s a step Will hasn’t taken before.  His readers will no doubt love it.  She sips her whiskey and takes a drag from her cigarillo feeling that wonderful spicy burn at the back of her throat.  Her thoughts still wander to Margot and she is finding it hard to concentrate.  She looked pale and fragile in the hospital like a broken swan it made Alana want to piece her back together again. 

She thinks she will go again this evening to see Margot, maybe take some flowers to cheer her room up a bit.  Nothing worse than white walls and grey skies to stare at all day she will find something bright.

\------

Will wakes up in his chair he didn’t even make it to the bed last night, an empty glass is still in his hand, and the stub from his cigarette is on the floor by his chair. Abigail is by the window he can see her silhouette and feel her disapproval.  He thinks it must be quite dull haunting him, he does the same thing most days and nights, he thinks that if she could she would definitely leave and he wouldn’t blame her.

_I wouldn’t leave._ Her voice is soft despite the disapproving tone, there is sympathy there which he appreciates even if doesn’t deserve it.

“I would.  If I were you I would leave.”

_Where would I go?  I’m dead._

“Don’t the dead usually go somewhere?”

_I don’t know I haven’t met any others._

Will decides it’s too early to have this conversation and then he looks at his watch and realises that the rest of the world has been up and turning for a few hours now.  The sound of the finished record played skipping has finally reached his ears so he gets up slowly, wobbly on his feet and goes to take the needle off.  He stumbles into the kitchen and places the glass he woke up with in the sink.  Her turns on the water and splashes himself with some to try and wake up.  He needs to see Margot and finish reading her the new book, she had fallen asleep yesterday while he was reading.  He needs to check in what that Doctor again and see if anything has changed and when she can go home.  Although Will hopes they will keep her in longer as her home is hardly a good place to recuperate in.  Not with Mason lurking around every corner.

He dries his face with the dishtowel which earns him another disapproving look from Abigail which he ignores.  He finds his pack of smokes (only a few left he will need more before he goes to the hospital) and lights one with his battered silver lighter.  He takes a few deep drags as he leans against the kitchen sink. 

As he is smoking he sees an envelope being pushed under his door.  It’s a plain brown envelope with his name printed on the front.  He looks at it and looks at Abigail who shrugs.  He goes to the door and opens it looking down the corridor there is no one to be seen.  He bends down picks up the envelope and closes the door, he then makes his way to the window where Abigail is standing and looks out onto the street to see if anyone is leaving his building.  Nothing.

He looks down at the envelope _W.B. Graham_ it says printed in type script, nothing else just his name.  It’s a medium sized envelope it seems like it has a few pages of something in it, quite weighty he thinks as he holds it in his hands.  Abigail has retreated to the bedroom and is looking out of the window this new intrigue not enough to hold her interest.  She is mad because he told her he would leave if he was her. 

He holds his cigarette in between his lips and begins to open the envelope.  Before he can open it there is a knock at the door, a loud knock that makes him jump.  “Boston PD, open up.”  The voice shouts from outside, he looks for Abigail but she has gone now.

When he thinks about it later he honestly doesn’t know why he does it but he puts the envelope in his desk drawer before making his way to the door just as another shout of “Mr Graham open up” echoes into his apartment.

“Yeah, yeah coming.”  He says and opens up the door up.  He is faced with a young woman holding up her ID, she is small with mousy blonde hair but her aura is definitely of someone you would not want to mess with. 

“Mr Graham?”  She asks, looking him up and down, he realises he is dressed in his undershorts and t shirt and that he should probably put some clothes on.

“Yeah, sorry, come in let me put some clothes on.”  He says and moves so she can enter his apartment which he is suddenly aware must reek of whiskey and cigarettes.

Lass makes her way inside and closes the door while he goes into the bedroom to pull on his pants and a sweater.  He comes back out and Lass is studying his apartment with open disgust.

“I’m Detective Lass.”  She says and he nods, _of course,_ he thinks.  He remembers her from his PI days she was just coming up through the ranks and he had read about her appointment in the newspapers.

“Hi, what can I do for you?”

She looks at him, his hair is a mess and his skin is pale and he is shaking slightly, his breath smells of stale bourbon.  “Perhaps some coffee?”  She suggests and he nods.

“Yeah good idea.”  He manages to make it to the kitchen and makes them some strong coffee, they then both sit at his kitchen table.  “What is it that brings you here?”

“There has been a murder that looks like it could be connected to you.”  She says evenly.

“To me?  Am I suspect?”  He asks.

She looks at him and thinks _no_ , he barely seems capable of functioning as a human being let alone staging a murder as elaborate as the one she has just seen, but still appearances can be deceiving.

“Can you tell me where you have been the last few days?”  She asks.

“Yeah,” he says running a hand through his already mussed up hair.  “Here and at the hospital, John Hopkins, l I have a friend who was involved in a car accident.”

“Can anyone verify this?” Lass has taken out her notebook and is making notes.  “What is the name of your friend?”

“Margot Verger is my friend she can tell you I was there and I spoke to her Doctor, I can’t remember his name I have his card somewhere.”  He says eyes darting to look around at the mess of his apartment as to where he put it, that Nurse with the smoky voice had given it to him after she took his details.

“Lecter?”  Lass prompts, remembering the smooth accent and high cheekbones.

“Yes, foreign sounding guy I spoke to him and a Nurse, she was blonde very pretty.”  Lass thinks that it was probably the same Nurse she spoke to.

“And what about here? Anyone who can verify you coming home?”  She says this as if it is not immediately obvious that he lives alone.

_Not unless ghosts makes reliable witnesses,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. “No, I live alone.  Although last night I was playing music until quite late so my neighbours can probably verify that.”

“Okay I will check.”  She has a feeling he is telling the truth but will check out his alibis anyway, talk to his neighbor before she leaves the building.

“Is this to do with an old case?”  Something from his old PI days coming back to haunt him like in one of his books.

“An old case?”  Lass asks, confused, he doesn’t seem like an ex-cop.

“Yes I used to be a PI.”

_Yes that makes more sense than ex-cop._ “No, no not to do with that well at least I don’t think so.  It’s to do with one of your books ‘Mounted Murder’. Do you know a girl called Cassie Boyle?”

“No, no I don’t believe I do.”

“She was found in a field dead mounted on a stags head.”

“She was what?!”  He can feel the blood drain from his face as thinks about what that means.

“She was found in a field mounted on a stag heads exactly like the cover of one of your books.”  He looks genuinely shocked to be finding this out, which is another sign that this could be a deranged fan or some kind of message for him from someone, or maybe something from his own cases.  At the same time she knows it’s the same guy she has been after for years, she knows it she just doesn’t know how it relates to Mr Graham.

“You think _I_ did this?  Why would I commit a murder from my own book?”  Just his luck to get framed for murder. 

“Do you have surgical experience or training?”

Will tries not to notice she has not answered his question and has instead followed up with a non sequitur. “No.  I was a PI and now I write trashy crime novels.  I wouldn’t know one end of a scalpel from another.  What has this got to do with the murder?”

“It could be linked to others involving organs being surgically removed.”

“That doesn’t happen in any of my books.”

Lass thinks she needs to verify this with Bev who has apparently read all his books and who she had to practically tie to a chair to stop her coming with her today. “Would you have any idea who might have done this?”

“Like who?”

“Anyone who is a fan or not a fan of your books, anyone who may have a grudge against you?”

Will thinks, everyone who has a grudge against him is either dead or dead and still haunting him.  “No.  Not off the top of my head I don’t deal with any fan mail it all gets sent to my publisher but I am sure she would have told me if something strange had come through.”

“Your publisher is Bloom Novels?”

“Yes Alana Bloom herself deals with me, I haven’t ever met her we talk on the phone but I am sure she can give you any information you need.  I can give you her details.” Alana is going to love this he thinks, _great publicity._

“Thank you yes that would be very helpful.”  Lass watches as Mr Graham scribbles down Alana Bloom’s name and number on a piece of thin manuscript paper with a blunt pencil and hands it to her. She takes it slotting it into the back of her notebook. “Would you be available to come to the station to have a look at some of the crime scene photos?  See if anything jumps out at you? They should be ready by tomorrow?”  _Unless Zeller loses them again,_ she thinks still bitter.

“Yeah, sure I mean I don’t know how much help I will be but of course anything I can do to help law enforcement.”

“Unusual attitude for a PI.”  Most of the ones Lass encounters are arrogant know it-all’s who think themselves above procedure.

“Ex PI, learnt the hard way that it’s not for me.  Better off in the fictional world.”

Lass laughs and wishes she could retreat into a world of her own making but she would choose one less violent.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments is the smug sense of satisfaction Hannibal gets from seeing his own murders in crime scene photos and kudos are is the anticipation of what is in that envelope...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He will once again ask himself later why he didn’t try to chase Lass down and tell her about these, why he didn’t call the police. He will always remember the strange coiling in his stomach and the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of these pictures, the way his mind tried to imagine the hands that could have drawn them. He will tell no one about these thoughts or the pictures, not even Abigail who is strangely absent as he picks up every drawing and looks at them.

_Liam sits back in the chair_ _as the sound of clinking chains reverberates in Jack’s ears_ _making him wince_ _. Thoughts of restless ghosts still haunting him._

_“_ _This is like old times except I am chained to a chair.”  Liam_ _says_ _and smiles_ _, it makes Jack feel slightly sick.  “You_ _also know I always did my best work when I was out in the field at a fresh scene not looking at stale pictures, you can’t smell photographs, you can’t taste them.”_ _The emphasis Liam puts on these words make him sound almost snake like.  Jack imagines Liam’s eyes narrowing like slits and slowly blinking he can almost hear the sickening click of scales moving across corneas._

_Jack sighs “You are not using this_ _as of a way out of here Liam.”  Underneath his bravado though_ _Jack knows Liam is right, he always did have a knack of putting together crime scenes, of piecing together the macabre blood stained detritus and painting a picture of violence with an almost loving skill.  What Jack brushed off as ‘imagination’ was actually intimate knowledge_ _and experience, an expert of the craft looking at others_ _’ poor imitations._

_Liam is assessing Jack_ _and he can feel that gaze sliding throug_ _h him_ _, hitting the marrow of his bones with a precision that makes Jack want to shiver._

_“How else do you imagine we do this?”_

_Hearing the word ‘we’ leave Liam’s mouth makes Jack want to scream_ _, instead he just sighs again and sits back in his chair in a mirror of Liam’s posture.  “There is no ‘we’ Liam, we are not doing anything, I am investigating this, your only involvement is this conversation which is only happening because the killer contacted you.  I wanted your opinion I’ve got it.”_

_“I think we both know that you wanted to contact me before this, you know I can help you.”_

_Jack feels that shiver run down his spine, he does not miss this feeling, the one he associates with the moment he realised, the moment his mind finally broke the wall of denial it had been building and he_ saw _Liam for the first time.  His true face, his true self._

_Liam smiles._

_“You want to see the crime scene.”  Jack states and he knows that as much as he wants to walk out of this_ _mausoleum to his failures_ _alone he has to take Liam with him._

Alana takes a deep breath and finishes the rest of her whiskey.  She can’t concentrate her mind is wandering again, to Will, to Margot.  She puts out her cigarillo and places the rest of the manuscript on her desk, checks her watch, _still time._   She stands up collects her coat, hat, scarf and gloves from the hat stand in her office and puts them on, just as she pulls her gloves on her phone rings.  She sighs and answers it.

“Bloom Novels, Alana Bloom speaking.”  She says her voice tired and frustrated she pulls off her gloves placing them on the desk.

“Hello Miss Bloom its Detective Miriam Lass from the Baltimore PD.” 

“Detective?”  Alana says confused and wonders what on earth they could be ringing her about.  She perches on the edge of her desk, cradles the phone on her shoulder and pours herself another drink. “What can I do for you?”

“I am calling about one of your authors W.B. Graham.”

Alana finds her heart is caught in her throat _not him as well_ “is he okay?”

“Yes, yes sorry he is fine.”  Lass can hear Alana let out a deep breath in relief to hear it. “I have just been speaking with him in regards to a case.  He said that you deal with all his fan mail and any correspondence he gets.”

“My office does yes, I don’t personally it all gets sorted by my Secretary.” 

“Does Mr Graham receive a lot?”

Alana smiles. “Not a lot no, not as many as some of my other writers, he is a bit of an acquired taste.  I think that those who do read his novels don’t always admit they do.  He is a guilty pleasure of sorts.”

Lass smiles at that, unseen by Alana, she thinks of Bev and her secret reading of his books.  “I am beginning to understand that.  Do you keep it?  The mail he gets?”

“No, Will has never been interested in reading any of it so we sometimes send a pre-typed reply and a signed picture out if requested and then it gets thrown out.  Why?”  They have a few photographs which she couriered over to Will for him to sign. Getting him to even have his picture taken was an ordeal in itself. Alana ended up sending Margot over with a camera and a bottle of bourbon.

“Has he ever received any mail that was strange or unusual?  Threatening or perhaps too admiring?”

_What is this about?_ Alana thinks _._ “As I said I don’t read them I would have to check with my secretary.”

“Is your Secretary available to speak to now?”

“No he called in sick today hence why I am answering my own phones.  What is this about?” 

A pause, “do you have his home number? I would like to speak to him.”

“Yes of course.” _Not that he will be at home_ , Alana thinks, _he is no more sick than she is. Probably looking for another job he always has his eye on other prizes._ Alana wishes he would just quit but he is strangely good at his job when he is here and she just doesn’t have the time to search for a replacement. So they keep playing this game where he calls in sick to go for other interviews and she pretends she doesn’t know what he’s doing.   “First tell me what this is about?”

“A murder I am afraid, a young girl has been killed and it appears to be connected to one of Mr Graham’s books.”

“Which one?  How?”

“ ‘Mounted Murder’ I believe is the title, the one with the cover of a young girl mounted on a stags head.”

Alana winces she hasn’t read anything about this in the press. She briefly wonders if this is a prank call. “What was your name again?”

“Detective Miriam Lass look I know it sounds crazy, I wanted to come by personally but I was waiting for a report and didn’t want to miss it.  If you would like me to come by I can.  I promise you this isn’t a joke.”

Alana sighs, Lass does sound serious, she can always ring Will and double check with him.

“So someone has actually done that to a girl?”

A pause “yes I am afraid so.”

“Oh my god” Alana thinks of Margot.  “Does Margot know?  She does the art.”

“I have not had a chance to speak to her, I was going to drop by later and confirm Mr Graham’s alibi.”

“You don’t think he had anything to do with this do you?” The idea is almost laughable, Will rarely leaves the house.

“No, I don’t but I just need to check out all possibilities.”

“I was going to go by the hospital now so I will fill Margot in I think it’s better she hear this from a friend, she has been through so much I don’t want her to get upset.” The last thing Margot needs is a surprise visit from the police.

“That’s fine I can delay my visit for a day but I will need to speak to her.” Hopefully Bev will appear with that report soon anyway and she can spend her afternoon obsessing over that.

“Yes, yes of course.  I will give you my Secretary’s number.”  She gives Lass Chilton’s details and then rushes to the hospital to speak to Margot.

 

\---

 

After Miriam Lass leaves with both his number and Alana’s, as well as the promise to call him when the photos from the crime scene are ready, Will pours himself a bourbon and lights another cigarette.  He drinks and smokes for a few moments just taking in what he has heard.  Then he remembers the envelope in his desk and feels a shiver run down his spine at the memory.  Why didn’t he tell Lass about it?  He has no idea why he didn’t think of it.  He downs the rest of the bourbon, puts his glass down, balances his cigarette between his lips and opens the drawer.  He gingerly takes the envelope out and opens it.  He spills the contents out on to his desk.

He spreads the papers out so he can see them all, there is a sketch of the cover of ‘Mounted Murder’ without the fabric which Alana had insisted Margot add, and sketches of other scenes, also one of who he imagines is Jack.  Will runs his fingers over all of them they are beautiful and filled with so much details its astounding.  There is a small note as well which simply says _To Mr Graham, from an admirer of your work, I do hope you find these as interesting as I find you._

He will once again ask himself later why he didn’t try to chase Lass down and tell her about these, why he didn’t call the police.  He will always remember the strange coiling in his stomach and the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of these pictures, the way his mind tried to imagine the hands that could have drawn them.  He will tell no one about these thoughts or the pictures, not even Abigail who is strangely absent as he picks up every drawing and looks at them. 

 

\----

Hannibal is imagining Mr Graham, _Will,_ opening his message and it brings a smile to his face.  He is sat in his study at home drinking red wine and reading W.B. Graham’s first novel called ‘Betrayal in Blood’, a terrible title if ever Hannibal saw one.  Jack has a partner in this one a Liam W. Hagrl, an obvious anagram of the authors name much to Hannibal’s amusement.  He wonders at this, is this ‘Liam’ someone W.B. Graham thinks of as himself or someone he wishes he could be?

The partner is murdering girls behind Jack’s back and getting a huge amount if macabre enjoyment from his game.  Hannibal smiles at this he often feels the same, he enjoys then persona he exudes on a daily basis hiding the true man underneath.  Perhaps Will feels the same, perhaps he has an inner self that longs to be released.  Hannibal wonders if his little game will help that self appear. 

He sips his wine, smiles and carries on reading, perhaps his next gift will be something from ‘Betrayal in Blood’ an ode to the beginning of it all, the original muse. 

 

\-----

 

Alana arrives at the hospital and makes her way to Margot’s room she is nervous and worried about how Margot will react to the news.  She knocks on the door gently and opens it as Margot turns her head to look at Alana and smiles. “You up for visitors?” Alana says softly.

“Yes, please, I am so bored and Will isn’t here yet.  I don’t know where he is.”  Margot has been waiting for an hour he is usually here by now she hopes he is not in a bourbon coma in his apartment.

Alana makes her way into the room removing her coat, hat, scarf and gloves she places them on the spare chair and sits down on the chair closest to Margot.  “I am sure he will be by later.”

“He asked the Doctor if he could my emergency contact.”

“Did he?”  Alana raises an eyebrow at that, Will means well but he is not the most reliable of people. “What did you say?”

“Well obviously at the moment its Mason and I don’t want to change it officially in case he gets angry but unofficially I asked if it could be you.  Is that okay?”

Alana feels a warmth in her stomach that she was not expecting, “of course.”

“Then you can tell Will anything he needs to know.”  Margot wants Will to be in the loop but she also knows he spends most of his days steeped in bourbon and cigarettes being haunted by his ghost. _Probably where is is now_. He thinks she doesn’t know about his ghost but she does, she noticed how his eyes slid to empty places in the room and glaze over.  When he told her about his last case and Abigail she realised who he was seeing.

“No problem.  I will keep him in the loop.”  Alana puts her hand over Margot’s and smiles.  “How are you feeling?”

“The same, the pain is less still tired though.”  She did feel better but still numb and the boredom of being here isn’t helping, though it is lessened by Will. _When he’s here_ , she thinks.

“I am glad the pain is less.” Alana says relieved to hear it.

“Have you finished Will’s new book?”  Margot asks, they are not at the end yet but she gets a feeling about where it might be headed and if she is right Alana is not going to happy about it.

“No, not yet.”

“That’s not like you, usually you read it the day you get it.”

“Well I've had a lot on my mind.”  Alana says softy and smiles.  “I will finish it though.  Is Will reading it to you?”

“Yes, I’m enjoying it. Interesting that the partner is back.”

“Yeah, I thought that to.”  Alana sounds distant and she cringes that she is giving herself away, she never can seem to hide with Margot, those eyes see straight through her.

“Alana? What’s bothering you?”  Margot can tell something is off by the way Alana seems nervous and her eyes keep darting about plus she is usually very excited to talk about Will’s books with her, right now she seems distracted.

Alana takes a deep breath and squeezes Margot’s hand “I thought you should hear it from me.”

“Hear what?”

“There has been a murder, a young girl, the police want to speak to you, they have already spoken to Will and I just got off the phone with them.  It appears as if Will might have a fan.”

“What do you mean?” Margot sounds quiet and strange.

“The girl was mounted on a stags head.”

“What?”

“She was apparently displayed in the same way as the girl on the cover of ‘Mounted Murder’.  A Detective Lass has spoken to Will and she is going to come by tomorrow and speak to you, she needs to confirm Will’s alibi with you.”  Alana is trying to keep her voice even and not sound as worried as she does, though she did also have the thought when this does make the press it should be great publicity.

“She doesn’t think Will is involved?”

“No, I don’t think so but they need to check.  She was asking whether he gets any fan mail.”

Margot smiles at the thought she can’t imagine Will getting fan mail, “does he?”

“Yeah a bit, not much.  Lass is going to talk to Chilton about it see if he remembers getting any weird ones.”

“Good luck with that.”  Margot says knowing how unreliable Chilton can be.

Alana laughs “yeah I know.”

“This is crazy though.  I can’t believe someone would do this.  Why?” Margot is stunned and she suddenly feels cold, a shiver runs through her body.

Alana frowns “I have no idea.” She stands up and moves the extra blanket from the bottom of the bed and lays is over Margot.

“Maybe it’s something to do with his old cases.  Someone wanting to mess with him.”

Alana sits down again and sighs. “Maybe.  I don’t know much about his PI days he doesn’t really talk about them, with me anyway.”

“He has only told me small things and about the last case and Abigail.”  He had only talked about it once and she never asked him about it.

The mention of Abigail’s name makes Alana flinch, she read about that case in the papers but has never spoken to Will about it. “He told you about that.” She heard it was him through rumours but never asked him.  His name was kept out of it, he must have made a deal with someone about it.

“Yeah, only once but it’s kind of the reason he is the way he is.”

“You mean a bourbon drinking, chain smoking recluse?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”  Margot smiles and Alana feels that warm feeling again.

“I have never actually managed to meet him.  We only talk on the phone.”

“That’s so weird!”  Margot knows this and has always found it strange she thinks that they would get on if they met.  She likes both of them.  Of course Will very rarely leaves the house and Alana is very busy, Margot realises she must be missing a lot of work with all these visits.  “You should meet.  Why don’t you wait around for him he should be by in a bit.  I know you are busy but if you can spare the time.”

“For you Margot I can always find time.”  She hadn’t meant to say it but it was true, she always enjoyed Margot’s company and it probably was about time she met one of Margot’s closest friends and one of her most successful writers.

They are both looking at each other and Alana tries to ignore the tension between them but it’s getting harder.  Her thoughts are interrupted by Doctor Lecter who has opened the door and is peering through “sorry to interrupt” he says his accent is soft and his smile gentle. 

“Come in Doctor this is Alana, who I was telling you about.”

Hannibal makes his way fully into the room and over to Alana who stands up to meet him, he holds out his hand for her to shake.  “Doctor Lecter.  We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes it is nice to meet you.”  Alana shakes his hand, a gentle but firm handshake, she notices the crinkles by his eyes when he smiles.  “Thank you for everything you have done to help Margot.”

“Just doing my job, though, don’t tell anyone, she is a favourite of mine.  Of course I am not supposed to have favourites but she is an exception.”  Alana smiles and is utterly charmed and captivated by this man, Hannibal inwardly smiles at how easy that was.

Margot laughs “ever the charmer Doctor.”

Hannibal smiles at her.  “How is she doing?”  Alana asks.

“She is doing well, much better her stitches are healing well and her pain is much less.  I wanted to talk to you about going home.” Hannibal says this evenly knowing the effect it will have on Margot.

Margot’s smile leaves her face. She just isn’t ready to deal with going home yet.  Mason has not been by in a while but she knows the moment he is told she is ready to come home he will reappear to torment her.  “Have you told Mason?”  Margot asks.

“No, as per your request I thought I would discuss it with you and Miss Bloom.  I am unsure as to whether it is a good idea for you to go back home, is there was somewhere else you could go to recuperate for a while until you fell stronger?  I can extend your stay here for a week but then we will need the bed I am afraid.”

Alana looks at Margot “you could come and stay with me.”

“Alana you don’t have to do that.”  Margot says softly but there are tears in her eyes.

Hannibal notices that it’s suddenly like he isn’t the room, he smiles and then says “I think that would be a good idea.  I can give you a week here Miss Verger and then I would recommend staying with Miss Bloom.  I can put your brother off the scent, perhaps say you have been referred to a clinic.”

Margot smiles and looks at Hannibal “thank you Doctor.”

“Yes, thank you so much Doctor.”

“Please call me Hannibal, it is my pleasure and let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.”

\-----

Lass is going through the box of files that Doctor Lecter left her, trying to see if there is a connection she has missed.  She is sat on the floor of her office, shoes kicked off smoking and looking at the endless files.  She hears a gentle knock and knows its Bev, no one else would ever dare knock or approach her office when she has been locked in her so long. 

“Hey Lass it’s me, can I come in?” 

“Yeah Bev, come in.”  Lass calls and put her cigarette out.

Bev cautiously opens the door she knew she would see Lass sat on the floor obsessing and she is not disappointed. “Hey.  I have the report on Cassie Boyle.”

“Oh great thanks.”  Lass stands up and takes the file from Bev who gingerly steps around the piles of paper on the floor and makes her way to the sofa where she sits down after moving more piles out of the way.

Lass perches on the edge of her desk and starts to look at the file.  “I can give you the highlights.”  Bev says and Lass looks up and nods “her lungs were removed, surgically as you expected, probably when she was still alive that’s what killed her.  She was mounted post mortem. It’s hard to tell with the cold weather how long she had been out there but her parents reported her missing two days ago so she was probably killed within that time.”

“It’s him.”  Lass says and Bev nods.  “He usually leaves longer between murders though I wonder what changed?”

“Her only contact with anything medical was that she was a candy striper but she didn’t work with any of the surgeons, none of them knew her.”

“But they could have seen her, she could have caught his eye at the hospital.” Lass responds she has no suspects amongst the Surgeon’s she has spoken but maybe it’s someone else who works at the hospital.

“Maybe.” Bev is still not sure Lass is on to something with this. It just seems so far fetched but she cannot deny the macabre displays in the church and field, if nothing else those two must have been committed by the same person. “Have you found a link between any of them.”

“Some are linked, some have been treated at John Hopkins, not all surgical.  There doesn’t seem to be a discernible motive or pattern of choosing victims.  The only thing they have in common is how they die.  The trophies he takes.”

“What do you think he’s doing with them?” Bev says watching as Lass takes one of the photos from the file and places the rest of the file on her desk and goes to the board pinning it next to the photo of the Priest and stands back. 

“I don’t know.”  Lass says.  “If he is ramping up his spree we need to catch him before he does it again.”

“How?”  Bev asks.

“Maybe Mr Graham can help.”  Lass says and looks over at Bev who can’t hide her smile.

“He’s coming in?”  Bev doesn’t do a good job hiding her excitement.  She re-read ‘Mounted Murder’ last night it was just as good as she remembered.

“Yes, so try to remain calm okay.” Lass laughs softly amused at how excited Bev is, she is going to be disappointed when she meets him.  “Don’t freak him out.  Trust me he is a bit of a mess so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Actually I did some research on him, did you know he used to be a PI?”  She had looked him up and found out this bit of information. She hadn’t really thought much about it before but now she knew it made sense his books described the investigation process so well.

“Yeah he mentioned it.”  Lass says and thinks she can still smell the bourbon coming off him in waves.

“Did he tell you why he quit?” Bev is sat forward now, excited to finally tell someone what she has found out.  Jimmy and Brian just tease her whenever she brings this up.

“Said it wasn’t for him.”

“His last case a girl was killed in front of him, her father slit her throat and he couldn’t stop it, he shot the father.  It made the news, the Hobbs case.”  Bev had remembered reading about this in the press but they had kept Will’s name out of it so she didn’t realise it was him.  The case wasn’t with their department as it happened in a different jurisdiction.

“That was him.” Lass finds that interesting, _explains a lot_ , she thinks.

“You think it could be connected?”

“Maybe.  I’ll ask him about it.  Thanks Bev.” At this point Lass can’t rule any theory out.

“No problem Boss, please can I meet him though? Please?”

Lass smiles, “of course why not?! Just try not to get too excited and scare the poor man.”

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are the warm feeling that Alana gets at the sight of Margot's smile, kudos is the way Will brushes his fingers over Hannibal's drawings.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will stares at the pictures of all the victims, that feeling in the pit of his stomach is growing and he isn’t entirely sure how he feels. He spends so much of his time numbing his emotions with booze that he has lost touch with them. He knows he should feel disgust and horror but he also knows deep down the first emotion he felt upon setting his eyes on these pictures is fascination. These murders they are elegant in their design, the word elegant haunts him as he looks at every one in turn. The beauty of this killer’s work is not lost on Will it seems to speak to him in a way that nothing else ever has, he feels like he is cracking, the veneer he has drunk onto his skin is melting away slowly at the sight of these creations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early as I won't have time to do it tomorrow! Will be on tumblr as scheduled post for Monday.

Will is aware he is twitching. He feels like his skin is crawling.  There are too many people, too many memories of these places from his PI days.  The smell of the police station is exactly as he remembers it, stale coffee, nicotine and frustration.  He is sat in the waiting room, still with his coat and hat on even though it’s quite warm in here, and he is sweating through his shirt and jumper. He feels like he is waiting to go to his own personal judgement day and he is in purgatory right now.  He sighs and keeps looking at his feet, he feels like a criminal sat here in his old worn out clothes. 

“Mr Graham.”  Lass finally appears and he looks up and meets her gentle eyes as she smiles at him.  There is an Asian woman behind her looking at him with an open expression of excitement.  He coughs and stands up.

“Please call me Will.”  He says.

“Of course, follow me Will.”  The Asian woman behind Lass seems to hit her gently on the arm and Lass rolls her eyes and says “my apologies this is Beverly Katz, she is one of our lab technicians.”

Beverley Katz takes a step in front of Lass and holds out her hand, “hi! Call me Bev, I am huge fan it’s so amazing to meet you.”  Then she seems to remember the circumstances under which they are meeting, “I mean sorry to meet you under these circumstances can’t be fun for you but still it’s a thrill.”

Lass rolls her eyes again and Will looks down at Bev’s proffered hand, he smirks, shakes it and then says “are you sure it’s not her if we are looking for a crazed fan?”  Bev laughs loudly, too loudly.  Lass looks unimpressed.  Will realises he has been shaking Bev’s hand too long and lets go of it and mumbles an apology.

“Okay follow me please Will.”  Lass says and turns around to make her way upstairs to her office.  She whispers to Bev as she passes “try to calm down.”

They make it to Lass’ office as Lass opens the door Will’s eyes are immediately drawn to the boards. He silently makes his way over to them and looks at the pictures of all the murders, he lingers over Cassie Boyle, his fingers brushing over the picture and that feeling is coiling in the pit of his stomach again. 

“Would you like some coffee Will?”  Lass says as she closes the door behind them.

Lass’ words break Will from his revelry and he turns looks at Bev and Lass, he removes his hat and wonders if he can get away from taking a swig from his hipflask right now he decides probably not.  “Yes, yes that would be great.”

“Bev can you go and get us some coffee.”  Lass says to Bev who looks slightly crestfallen but nods and leaves.  “Can I take your coat?”  Lass says.

Will shrugs his overcoat off and hands it to Lass with his hat and she hangs both up on the coat stand.  She then joins Will by the boards. 

“You think these are all by the same person.”  Will says in awe.

“Yes.  I don’t have definitive proof most people think I’m mad but all have organs removed surgically before death and all are displayed in a dramatic manner.  It seems like it would be a huge coincidence if they were by more than one person.  However this one, the one that is like your novel,” Lass points at the photograph of Cassie Boyle, “this is one is different he has never killed and referenced something before, all his displays are usually a reflection of the contempt he feels for the victim, this is different.”

Will swallows “why me?  Why my books all of sudden?” 

“I was hoping you would have a theory.”  Lass says and looks at Will who is still transfixed by the image of Cassie Boyle mounted on a stags head.

Will stares at the pictures of all the victims, that feeling in the pit of his stomach is growing and he isn’t entirely sure how he feels.  He spends so much of his time numbing his emotions with booze that he has lost touch with them.  He knows he should feel disgust and horror but he also knows deep down the first emotion he felt upon setting his eyes on these pictures is fascination.  These murders they are elegant in their design, the word elegant haunts him as he looks at every one in turn.  The beauty of this killer’s work is not lost on Will it seems to speak to him in a way that nothing else ever has, he feels like he is cracking, the veneer he has drunk onto his skin is melting away slowly at the sight of these _creations._  

Lass is looking at Will trying to ascertain a response, his eyes look glassy  but she has seen his apartment, the empty bottles, glasses and overflowing ashtrays, so it’s possible they always look like that.  He seems faraway though, as if his thoughts are drifting away from him.  He doesn’t look as horrified as perhaps he should but then again he was a PI and that last case was pretty horrific she read the file.  She can’t help but think he looks fascinated though which is perhaps not the most normal of reactions. 

Will manages to tear his eyes away from the board and looks at Lass “I am afraid I have no idea.  I was trying to think of any old cases that would be relevant but there are none.  I assume you have realised what my last case was?”  If she is as a good a Detective as these thorough boards make her appear to be he can safely assume she has done her research on him.

Lass meets those blue eyes and frowns “yes, I read the file.”

“Everyone involved in that case is dead and that was definitely my most prolific.”  He had managed, through giving Freddie Lounds a lot of details he shouldn’t have, for his name to be kept out of the press.  Giving his evidence anonymously calling in every favour he had with the police and the courts.  He quit being a PI after the trial and lived in the bottom of a bourbon bottle ever since.  His memory of that period is still hazy.  Not of the day Abigail died that he can never forget that.  There are times when he can still feel Abigail’s blood warm and pumping against his hands.  Will shivers and is relieved when Bev returns with coffee.

He takes the cup from her and sips at the strong black coffee.  Bev is hovering and it makes Will smile awkwardly.  “It was me,” she says, “that realised about the cover.”  Will nods not sure what to say.  “I had no idea it was Margot Verger that did the covers though that was a surprise.”

“Yeah she likes it to be kept under the radar.”  Will says guardedly.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”  Bev says.  “They are beautiful though.”

Will smiles at that “yes they are, I insisted on using her exclusively.  I can’t imagine working with anyone else.”  Will then turns to Lass and asks “have you spoken to Margot yet?”

“No, not yet.  I spoke to Alana earlier she said wanted to speak to Margot first, I was planning on going by tomorrow.”  Will nods at that and sips his coffee he is glad that Alana has gone to tell Margot about all this.  “I am also going to speak to Alana’s Secretary Mr Chilton as he deals with all your correspondence.”

Will shrugs he has never met Mr Chilton he has spoken to him when he calls the office he seems professional enough.  Will didn’t think about the fact that Chilton is the one who deals with his mail it makes him feel slightly uncomfortable but he doesn’t know why.

“Hmm, yeah I have never met him.  Actually I have never met Alana either we talk over the phone.”  Will is starting to realise that it’s slightly strange that he hasn’t met her, although he does like the slightly romantic nature of their only phone call relationship.  He is surprised he hasn’t bumped into her at the hospital but if she is there now perhaps he will this afternoon, he is strangely nervous at the idea.

“Really?”  Lass says “that’s unusual for an author to have not met his editor?”

Will shrugs “yeah, probably, I don’t leave my apartment much these days and she is very busy.”

Lass nods she had guessed as much. “You haven’t received any mail from anyone since we last spoke or remembered anything?”

Will feels that coil tighten and he knows he should say something, he knows he should tell Lass about the drawings and the note.  He had stared at them for ages and debated about bringing them but in the end he didn’t. It was as if they were too private, too personal, he knew somehow that the sender intended for them to be for his eyes only.  There was no evidence that the sender was the killer although Will knew he was fooling himself he knew it was the same man, the drawing of the woman on the stag looked like Cassie Boyle.  It was him, Will was being courted or teased he wasn’t sure which one. 

\----

Will leaves the police station in a daze the moment he is out of the building he takes a large swig from his hip flask and lights a cigarette.  He finds an alleyway with a wall he can lean against and just take a moment.  He knows he is playing a dangerous game right now the longer he doesn’t tell Lass about the sketch and the note the guiltier he is going to look.  She will assume he is hiding something, he is hiding something.  He is endangering lives, he is withholding evidence.  His old PI brain is shouting at him but he just doesn’t want to listen.  He is justifying it now with the thought that maybe he can find out who sent it to him and then go to Lass with a name. 

He knows that’s not the reason he is not telling her.  He shakes his head and takes another long drink from his hip flask and inhales more of his cigarette.  Right now he just needs to get it together enough to go and see Margot.  Check she is okay.  He takes a deep breath and puts the hip flask back in his pocket, takes a last drag of his cigarette and shoves his hands in his coat pockets and heads to the hospital.

 

\-----

“What did you think?”  Bev asks with a disapproving look as she watches Lass light another cigarette.

Lass takes a drag, feels bad briefly but then decides she is in her own office so she is allowed, “I think he is a mess.”

Will has just shuffled his way out of the police station looking like he was about to drink the entire contents of the hip flask Lass had felt in his coat when she hung up as soon as he found a discreet alleyway to do so. 

Bev nods “yeah he did seem a bit…unstable.  I liked him though.  I mean after everything he has been through can you blame him for being a bit jumpy.” 

“That’s true.  I don’t know I just get the feeling from him that he’s hiding something, like he might know more than he’s telling.”  The thought had come to her as she watched the way his eyes kept sliding to the board of photos as if he was fascinated.

“You think he might know who it is?  You don’t think it’s him?  I mean unless he is a very good actor he doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly, he looks about a hundred pounds soaking wet.” 

“I don’t think it’s him no, he doesn’t seem capable, but I think he is hiding something.  I will keep an eye on him I think, send some officers by his apartment see if he has any visitors.  First I need to speak to this Chiton.”

\-----

 

Will arrives at the hospital, he lingers outside smoking three more cigarettes and finishing off the contents of his hip flask, something he knows he will regret when he leaves and doesn’t have anything to get him home but he does it anyway.  Maybe he can stop somewhere on the way back. He makes his way inside, goes up in the lift and then down the corridor.

“Mr Graham.”  An accented voice calls out and Will turns to see the well-dressed Doctor Lecter at the Nurses station talking to the blonde Nurse he had given his details to the other day.  She looks Will up and down with a barely concealed look of contempt and then excuses herself.

“Hi Doctor Lecter.”  Will says and then remembers he needs to remove his hat which he does and then runs his hand through his, he now realises, slightly greasy hair.  “Please call me Will.”

“Will.” Hannibal says rolling the word around his mouth like wine.

“How is Margot?”  Will asks, “I was about to go and see her.”

“I assumed as much.  She is doing better actually I will let her update you.  Miss Bloom is in there now.”  Hannibal watches the slightly panicked look flicker across Will’s face and catalogues it away as _interesting._   “I wanted to let you know that Margot has asked if Miss Bloom can be her unofficial emergency contact.  She appreciates the offer and I believe she has asked Miss Bloom to keep you informed.  Her brother is to remain her official contact of course.”

“Oh, I mean yeah, if that’s what she wants.”  Will is a little hurt but then realises that Margot is probably better off with Alana who is reliable and not drunk one hundred percent of the time.  “Makes sense.”

Hannibal smiles and moves slightly closer to Will “she is doing much better she should be able to go home in a week.”

“Home?”  Will says and feels a panic forming at the thought.

“I will let Margot explain but we do have a plan that means she can avoid going back to her brother’s care for a little longer but she will have to leave the hospital, we need the bed.” 

Will nods “okay.  Thank you for everything you have done for Margot.”  Will says and feels a bit lame saying it.

“Just doing my job.”  Hannibal says with false modesty.

“If there is anything I can ever do to repay you.”  Will says and wonders what on earth that could be, this man is so well put together he makes Will feel even more of a disaster than usual.

Hannibal ponders this for a moment and then makes a decision.  “Actually there was something, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me?”

Will manages to meet those brown eyes and feels that coil in his stomach which he supresses.  “Of course.”

“The nurses here are a fan of your works and I am sure they would love some signed copies, it would certainly help my popularity.”

 _Didn’t look like you needed any help with that a moment ago,_ Will thinks and then wonders why he cares.  “No problem I can get Alana to send you some.”

“Thank you so much Will.”  Hannibal says smoothly.  “I won’t keep you any longer I know Margot is eager to hear more from your new book.”

Will smiles and nods. “I will ask Alana now about the books.”

“Much obliged.”  Hannibal says and gracefully turns around and walks away down the corridor, Will finds he is watching the well-dressed figure disappear around the corner and is only broken out of his revelry by a very striking brunette woman dressed in a bright red pant suit walking towards him, black coat over her arm and black hat held loosely at her side. 

She stops and smiles “ahhh Will we meet at last.”  She says and he would know that chocolatey purr anywhere.

“Alana.”  He says and holds out his hand for her to shake, she looks at it and then pulls him into a hug and he laughs.  “Nice to meet you face to face.”  Will says as they part.  He had not expected her to be so striking he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he is taken aback by her beauty and her soft eyes.

“Were you talking to Doctor Lecter?”  She asks.

“Yes, he was just telling me Margot chose you over me and I can’t say I blame her.”  He smiles and she laughs.  “Also she is being released soon.”

“Yes,” Alana confirms, “however we have a plan, a conspiracy!  Margot will come to me and Doctor Lecter will tell Mason” Alana says Margot’s brothers name with barely concealed contempt “she has gone to a clinic to recover, should buy us some more time.”

Will smiles and is relieved “oh good, he seems very helpful Doctor Lecter.”

“Yes he has been wonderful, I must get him something to thank him.”

“Actually I just asked him that and he wants some signed copies of my books to give to the Nurses, buying popularity.”  Will laughs.

“I am sure we can manage that.”  Alana smiles.

“Are you enjoying the new book?”  Will asks as lightly as he can.

“Yes, very much so haven’t managed to finish it yet with everything that’s happened.  I love the old partner coming back should encourage people to go back and read your old stuff.” 

“Yeah.”  He says non-committedly, _she will not be happy when she gets to the end,_ Will thinks and inwardly winces.

“Have you spoken with the police yet?”  Alana says leaning in conspiratorially.

“Yes, just came from there.  I am not sure I was much help.”  Will says and tries to push that coil of guilt and something else further down.  “Have you told Margot?  How did she take it?”

“Yes, well she is shocked obviously but I think she is okay, worried about you.”

Will smiles awkwardly “she shouldn’t be she needs to focus on herself.”

Alana nods “well I won’t keep you I know she looks forward to your visits.”  Alana clasps his hand and squeezes it gently he smiles back at her and watches as she makes her way down the corridor.  He feels so underdressed again.

\-----

_Jack feels uneasy.  He left the prison with the sound of clanking chains echoing in his mind and the sight of Liam’s smug smile burnt onto his retinas.  He sighs as he gets out of the car and makes his way to his front door.  He feels as if he is walking in tar right now, as if he is fighting against a thick current that is going to swallow him whole any moment.  He opens the door, walks inside, closes the door behind him and hangs up his coat and hat.  He makes his way up to the bedroom and sees the light is still on, he can hear the Nurse talking and he smiles because this means Bella is still up.  He enters the room and makes his way to Bella, he leans down and kisses her forehead._

_“Hey.”  He says and sits down on the bed._

_“I think you look worse than me Jack!  How did it go? Not good I take it.”  She says as he clasps her hand in his.  The Nurse places the glass of water and pills on the bedside table and quietly leaves, Jack watches her go._

_“It was…bracing.”  Jack says looking into Bella’s sympathetic eyes, he doesn’t understand how she can find sympathy for him with everything she is going through.  “How are you?”_

_“The same, still dying my love.”  Jack winces at her humour. “How was he?”_

_“He was as he was the last time I saw him, unrepentant, manipulative and smug.”  Jack strokes the paper thin skin on Bella’s hands he still feels it as it always did though; soft and smooth, warm and comforting._

_“Was he any help?”_

_“Some, he wants to go to the crime scene.”  Jack knows he will grant this request because he knows that Liam will be able to see things Jack can’t.  It doesn’t stop him from feeling sick to his stomach about it._

_“Jack, if it helps you to catch this guys you have to do it.  You can control the situation.  Make him think he has control but really you have the reigns.”_

_Jack smiles weakly “you always have such faith in me.”_

_She reaches out her hand and cups his face “you are the strongest, bravest man I know Jack Crawford.”_

_He smiles and leans over and kisses her gently on the lips.  “Take your pills I am going to get a whiskey and then I shall come and read to you.  How does that sound?”_

_“Perfect.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are the fangirl glee Bev has as meeting Will, Kudos is fangirl glee Hannibal gets when Will tells him he is sending signed copies of his books to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lass continues to investigate while Will keeps vital evidence from her. Hannibal is playing with fire and Bedelia might get burnt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many apologies for being a day late with this! But here it is a new chapter! Also check out the related fanart covers that the lovely @jazzytomay did they are awesome!

Lass presses the buzzer of the Apartment building and it makes a loud obnoxious sound that causes her to wince. It’s snowing again and she pulls the lapels of her coat closer together.

 

“Yes.” A disembodied voice crackles at her.

 

“Mr Chilton?” She says loudly into the speaker.  “It’s Detective Lass we spoke on the phone.”  The conversation had been brief and she got the impression he had better things to do than talk to her.

 

“Oh yeah come on up I suppose.” Another overly loud buzz and the door clicks, she pushes it and enters the building. Once in the entrance hall she shakes off as much of the snow as she can.  She sighs as she looks at the elevator, Chilton is on the fourth floor she could walk it but it would take longer and she would probably be even more of a bedraggled mess than she is right now. _You can do this,_ Lass thinks in Bev’s voice again and wishes she had as much faith in herself as Bev seems to.

 

She takes a deep breath and pulls the grate back and steps inside, she pulls the grate back and then presses the button for the fourth floor.  The elevator is noisy and clunky and she hears every creak and crack too loudly.  She closes her eyes and tries to count to ten, a technique Bev said is supposed to help.  Finally the elevator arrives with a loud clank and jolt to its destination and Lass gets out as quickly as possible. 

 

She finds the apartment door she is looking for and knocks loudly.  Nothing. She knocks again this time a proper police knock causing the door to shake and the echo of the knocking reverberate around the corridor. Eventually the door is opened by a dark haired man of average height he is wearing a double breasted dark blue pinstripe suit with a slightly gaudy tie. Lass thinks of Doctor Lecter and how much better he pulls off ostentation than this guy.

 

“Detective Lass,” she says and holds out her badge “are you Mr Chilton?”

 

He peers at the badge, making a point of taking it in and thinking about it, Lass sighs and then Chilton eventually nods “yes I am he.  Will this take long? I have an appointment shortly.” He says this as he looks her up and down in contempt, seemingly cataloging every item of clothing she is wearing as mundane.  She sighs.

 

“Shouldn’t do but it will take as long as it takes. This is a homicide investigation. May I come in?”

 

Chilton bristles slightly but moves aside to let her in.  His apartment is attempting ostentation just like his clothes but it all falls slightly off the mark.  It’s very bare and uninspiring, it’s doesn’t look lived in.  They make their way to the lounge where there are uncomfortable looking white sofas which seem impractical to Lass.

 

“Please take a seat. Can I get you a drink?” Chilton asks with false grace.

 

“No I’m fine thank you.” Lass says and takes a seat perched on the edge of the couch.   She removes her hat places it by her side and then takes out her notepad and pencil from her coat pocket.  Chilton watches her do this and then sits down opposite, he sits back on the couch and crosses his legs and waits for her to speak. “Miss Bloom tells me you deal with W.B. Graham’s fan mail?”

 

Chilton snorts unattractively and leers down his nose at her “what he gets yes.  It’s hardly a lot.  He is an acquired taste.  I honestly don’t know why Alana publishes him.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, all her other authors are respected novelists rather than a trash writer with a flair for the macabre.” Chilton says this as he starts picking at his nails.

 

“Not a fan I take it?” Lass says.

 

“Well he’s hardly high literature is he? But he does bring in a good revenue source his books always sell well.”

 

“He gets less mail than other writers?”

 

“Yes much less I think most people who read his books don’t admit to it so wouldn’t feel the need to write to him.”

 

“Has he ever received any strange mail? Threatening or a lot from one person? Anything that might stand out?”

 

Chilton takes in a deep breath, “no not that I can recall. It’s not the most important part of my job. I have other responsibilities rather than just reading the mail.  It’s me that chooses which books Alana reads you know?”

 

“So did you recommend Will?” Lass finds this unlikely.

 

“Well yes but only because he was the best of a bad bunch, Alana said she wanted a more mainstream crime author on the books to help boost sales, I sent the feelers out and I narrowed it down to him and a couple of others.”

 

“I see.”

 

“It’s not really a genre I connect with.”

 

“How long ago was that?”

 

Chilton makes a point of thinking about it “we took him on around five years ago, he had a couple of short stories published, he sent us his first book and then the rest is history.”

 

“He doesn’t get a lot of mail though?”

 

“No maybe a hundred letters a month compared to some of our more high profile authors it’s not a lot.”

 

“Nothing stands out? You haven’t kept any?”

 

“No it’s all pretty much been standard letters. If I had found anything strange I would have reported it. I’ve had to do so before for other authors. No I haven’t kept any.”

 

“Well if you do receive any please contact me immediately.” Lass digs out a card and hands it to him, Chilton uncrosses his legs and leans forward to take it. “I will let you get to your appointment.” Lass stands and Chilton makes a show of putting the card in his jacket pocket she frowns.

 

“Of course will do.” He says as he sees her out.

 

 

 

\------

 

Lass’ next stop is the hospital to see Margot, thankfully it has stopped snowing and its now one of those lovely clear crisp cold days she loves.  She drives to the hospital chain smoking in her car trying to ignore the increasingly loud voice of Bev telling her she smokes too much.  Once she is parked and walking into the hospital she realises she is going to have deal with two elevators in one day, these are two more than she would like.  Sighing as she reaches the elevator she reluctantly presses the button.

 

“Detective Lass.  Back again?” That richly accented voice makes her smile before she even realises and she turns to see Doctor Lecter once again impeccably dressed this time in a double breasted grey suit with a blue tie and pale blue shirt.  She thinks of Chilton and how he would wish he could look this good in a suit.

 

“Yes, afternoon Doctor Lecter.”

 

Hannibal smiles and nods his head “please call me Hannibal.”

 

Miriam feels a little flustered at that but manages a smile she is not sure she could ever call him Hannibal he is too imposing.  “Going up?” Lass says rather obviously.

 

“Indeed.  Are you hear to see me? Or one of the other surgeons?” Hannibal of course knows exactly who she is here to see but as the murder has not made the press yet he gives the impression of remaining oblivious.

 

“No,” Lass smiles, “not you or the Surgeons this time, a patient of yours I believe.”  Lass had realised that Lecter was Margot’s Doctor when she was looking through the files. “Margot Verger.”

 

“I see well I need to check in on her so I can take you to her room if you like?  Nothing too serious I hope she is still recovering I would hate to have her agitated.”  Hannibal is often impressed with how he manages to convey empathy although when it comes to Margot he does have a fondness for her especially as she is so close to Will.

 

“I believe Alana Bloom saw her earlier and has informed her of the situation I just need to ask her a few questions I will be gentle.”  Lass smiles and Hannibal nods.

 

“I suppose you can’t tell me what this is in reference to?” 

 

Lass thinks about it for a moment and decides that she may as well let him know he has seen the murder board and hasn’t run to the press, he has proved himself trustworthy.  “Actually there has been another murder.”

 

“By your Surgeon?”

 

“Yes, we think so.”

 

“How does it connect with Miss Verger?”

 

“Actually it connects to W.B. Graham and his books, it was an ode of sorts to one of his books referencing the cover.”

 

“Oh I see how bizarre.”  Hannibal once again wonders if Will liked it.

 

“Well it’s a departure from the pattern I am not sure what it means.”

 

The elevator arrives and Hannibal pushes back the grate, “I met Mr Graham the other day, a strange fellow.  He is in most days to see Margot I believe he is reading his new to book to her.  Please go ahead.”  Hannibal says and gestures for Lass to enter the lift.  She takes a deep breath and walks in.  Hannibal can smell her fear as she walks past him, _interesting._   He gets in, closes the grate and presses the button. The lift jolts to life and Lass begins to sweat.

 

“Yeah he is a bit of recluse.”  Lass says absently.

 

“Not a fan of elevators Detective?”  Hannibal says gently.

 

“No, not good with small spaces, don’t know why, just never been good with them.”  Ever since she was a child she has had claustrophobia it’s always worse in lifts, the thought of plummeting to your death in a metal box is not an appealing one.

 

“A common phobia.”  Hannibal attempts to comfort.

 

“Yeah I suppose.”

 

“We humans are not meant to be confined Detective, it goes against our very nature, your phobia is your basic human instincts asserting themselves.”

 

“I am not sure if that makes it better or not.”

 

“Probably no help at all apologies, the study of the human mind is something of a hobby of mine.”  Hannibal has always been fascinated with the way the brain works, having spent most of his life manipulating those around him he feels he is somewhat of an expert on the subject.

 

“You have time for hobbies?”  Lass has closed her eyes now and is really hoping Doctor Lecter won’t judge her for it.

 

Hannibal laughs “yes, some, not much time but some.”

 

The lift jolts to a stop and Miriam opens her eyes in relief.  Hannibal opens the grate and she races out and takes in a few deep breaths.  Hannibal follows closing the grate after him, he places a hand on her shoulder “are you alright?”

 

“Yes, sorry it’s the second time in one day it’s a bit much.”  Lass breathes and smiles, she straightens up “thank you.” 

 

Hannibal smiles and removes his hand from her shoulder. “No problem, Margot is just up here.”  Hannibal gestures and begins walking as Lass follows, she notices the Nurse from the other day staring at her and Doctor Lecter as they pass, he gives her a cursory nod.

 

They make their way to Margot’s room when they reach the door they can see Will sat next to her bed reading aloud from a manuscript.  Hannibal knocks gently and both Will and Margot look up at the door and smile.  Doctor Lecter opens the door and steps through “sorry to interrupt I wanted to check in on you Margot, and you have a visitor.”  Lass steps out from behind Hannibal feeling small and as if she is disturbing something.  “This is Detective Lass.”

 

Will stands up and walks over to her holding out his hand “hello again Detective.”  He says and shakes her hand that easy smile of his makes her feel better.  “Margot this is the Detective I was telling you about.”

 

Lass looks at Margot who is looking back with a reluctant, guarded smile on her face, her eyes dart between Hannibal and Will for reassurance. Lass takes a deep breath and lets go of Will’s hand, she moves around to stand closer to Margot.  “I am Detective Lass, there is nothing to worry about I just need to ask you some questions, I won’t keep you long.  If you would like for Doctor Lecter and Mr Graham to stay that is fine.”

 

Margot looks at Lass and then at Will and Doctor Lecter. “Would that be okay?”

 

“Of course Margot.”  Will says and returns to his usual seat.

“No problem at all.”  Hannibal says and goes to stand behind Will.

 

“I understand Miss Bloom told you about the murder?”  Lass asks getting Margot’s attention once again.

 

“Yes she did, you don’t think Will or I had anything to do with it?”  Margot’s voice is shaky and Will leans forward and grasps her hand.

 

“No, you for one were here when the murder happened and I do not suspect Mr Graham we just need to cover all our bases and it could be someone you both know, a fan or someone with a grudge who wants to throw suspicion.  I just wanted to ask you if you have ever received any mail from any fans that seemed strange?  Or come into contact with anyone you thought was too interested in Will or you or your books?”

 

Margot seems to breathe a little easier at that.  Hannibal is looking down at Will who is oblivious all his concentration focused on Margot.  Hannibal realises that Will has clearly not told Lass about the letter and drawings, he suspected and hoped Will wouldn’t.

 

“No, I’ve been racking my brains and I can’t think of anyone.   No one really know I am the artist, I keep my name off the book.  I don’t receive fan mail.  I can’t think of anyone.”  Margot looks at Will again who is smiling at her.

 

“That is what I thought you would say but had to check.  If you do think of anything please let me know.”  Lass leaves her card on the small table. “I will leave you to it, I wish you a speedy recovery Miss Verger.”

 

“Thank you Detective.”  Margot says.

 

Will stands up and lets go of Margot’s hand “let me see you out Detective, leave Doctor Lecter and Margot here to it.”

 

Lass smiles “thank you.” 

 

Will and Lass make their way out of Margot’s room and down the hall to the elevator.  “I could use a smoke anyway.”  Will says and Lass laughs.

 

After another tense journey in the elevator and Lass finds herself stood outside the hospital with Will, smoking.  “Doctor Lecter said you are reading Margot your new book.”

 

“Yeah she normally comes over and we drink too much and I read to her.  Thought I’d bring it to her.”

 

“She is still going to do the cover?” 

 

“Yeah wouldn’t have anyone else.  Margot is the best.”

 

There is a silence between them as Lass smokes and Will takes out his hipflask and has a swig he offers it to Lass who politely refuses. “I take it you haven’t had any more ideas about who might be a fan of your work?”

 

Will thinks about the letter and drawings in his desk drawer and takes another swig of bourbon. “No, no clue.  Have you spoken to Chilton?”

 

“Yes, not much help says he doesn’t recall you getting anything suspicious.”

 

“Have you had any more leads?”

 

“No this guys is careful, he knows what he’s doing he won’t leave anything behind that he doesn’t want to.”

\------

 

_Jack watches as the police van pulls up.  He stubs out his cigarette, he has started smoking again and if Bella found out she would be furious.  In this moment he needs one.  Liam is inside that van.  They are at the crime scene, the house of the latest victim.  The van pulls up and the armed escorts get out and open the back door.  Liam is chained up, in a strait jacket, with a mask over the lower half of his face.  He shuffles out of the van with assistance of two armed guards.  Jack watches all of this as a feeling of dread coils up in the pit of his stomach. They assist him inside the house and Jack closely follows behind his head down watching his own feet._

_Once inside the armed escorts remove the mask as per Jack’s request and undo enough of the chains so that Liam can move his feet, his hands are still cuffed together.  He is still in his jumpsuit but is managing to look imposing.  Jack tells the guards to leave which they do reluctantly.  He is then alone with Liam in the house.  It is the first time they have been alone since that fateful night when Jack arrested him._

_Liam looks at Jack and smiles, it takes all of Jack’s self-control to not wince._

_“Just like old times.” Liam says._

_“Hardly.”  Jack replies lighting another cigarette._

_Liam quirks his eyebrow “I thought you quit.”_

_Jack sighs “stress.”_

_Liam laughs and nods “don’t suppose I could have one?”_

_“No.”  Jacks says as he takes a drag.  “Stop wasting time.  What do you feel?”_

_Liam smiles a thin smile and narrows his eyes at Jack “no need to be rude.”_

_“I think there is every reason Liam.”_

_Liam looks at Jack for a while hoping for a response and when he doesn’t get one he sighs and turns away.  He walks further into the lounge towards the French windows that look out onto the garden.  Closing his eyes he leans his head back and breathes in the air of the room.  Jack used to watch him do this at crime scenes all the time, he used to find is fascinating now he finds it creepy.  Liam’s eyes are moving behind closed eyelids, roving side to side, he has a satisfied smile on his face as he imagines all the bloodshed in this house._

_Jack shivers and waits._

_After a few moments Liam opens his eyes and stares out at the snowy garden. “He would want to watch them first, get to know them, watch how they work as a family.  He enjoys that part.  He chooses somewhere he can watch unseen, probably those woods.”_

_“He stalks them before.”_

_“Yes.  He finds them somehow, he is drawn to them, he finds out where they live and then he visits them and watches.”_

_“He will have a connection to them somehow, he will have come across them.”_

_“Yes.”  Liam looks out at the trees and the garden and then he turns to Jack, “do you know blood looks quite black in the moonlight?”_

_“What does that have to do with this?”_

_“Was it a full moon when they were killed?”_

_“I’m not sure.”_

_“I think he also chose this house and this family so he could go outside afterwards and see the blood. Howl at the moon.”_

_Liam is staring at Jack gauging his reaction to this statement.  Inwardly Jack is shivering and feels nauseous but he is managing to maintain an air of disinterest.  “So he need privacy.”_

_“Yes I would imagine so.”_

Alana puts the book down and breathes she takes another sip from her bourbon, then she picks up her cigarillo and takes a drag from it before replacing it on the ashtray.  She thinks about Will, now she has finally met him its strange to put a face to the voice.  He was not entirely what she was expecting.  She knew he was twitchy and didn’t like leaving his apartment but she was surprised at his inability to keep eye contact and how thin he was.  She feels bad that she hadn’t kept a better eye on him.  She will in the future he needs someone to make sure he eats.

 

Her thoughts inevitably turn to Margot and her coming to stay with Alana in a week.  She has been preparing the house and the spare room for her making sure everything is clean and tidy.  She wants Margot to feel comfortable in her house, at home.  She tries not to think too much about why…

 

\-----

 

 

Hannibal is in his office going through papers when there is a knock on his door.

 

“Yes?” He says.

 

The door opens and Nurse Du Maurier enters “so sorry to disturb you.”  She says in her silken voice as she enters and gently closes the door behind her locking it.  Hannibal smirks.

 

She makes her way towards him, walking around the desk to where he is sat, she perches on the edge of his desk.  He looks up at her, leans back in his chair, hands clasped in his lap.  “I just wanted to check that everything was alright?  With the police and everything.”

 

He smiles, nothing gets past her, “yes everything is fine I am co-operating with their enquiries.”

 

She smiles “good.  If there is anything I can do please let me know.”  She moves her foot slightly so it nudges against his.

 

“Bedelia.”  He warns.

 

“Yes.”  She leans over him resting her hand on the arm of his chair, her face is very close to his and he can smell her perfume and hairspray. “I just want you to know I am always here for you.”

 

He closes his eyes and breathes her in she always used to be very intoxicating to him but lately he has found himself drawn elsewhere.  A fact he is sure she is aware of hence this rather brazen display of affection for him.  She is useful to him and he does enjoy her company.  He is sure she knows more about his hobbies than anyone else and has on more than one occasion covered for him.  It seems she is drawn to danger, a fact Hannibal is sure will not end well for her.

 

She leans in closer and brushes her lips against his and chastely kisses him.  Hannibal lets her, she does not linger for long.  Soon she slowly stands up and walks towards the door, he watches her sashay her hips and smiles.  She opens the door and slips out, her perfume lingers in the air after she has gone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos is the way Will instinctively takes Margot's hand and comments are Hannibal's realistion that Will us keeping the letter a secret...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will receives a second letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So may apologies for the delay in posting this! Best laid plans and all that! Cursed real life! Thank you for being patient.
> 
> xxxxxx

Will came home to find to a second letter under his door.  The same blank envelope with his name written on it.  Once inside he closed the door, removed his coat, hat and scarf.  He went to pour himself a drink and light another cigarette.  He sat at his desk to open it, he took a large swig before opening the envelope.  Tipping the contents out he gasps.  This time it was a letter.  Handwritten in beautiful script.  He takes a long drag of his cigarette and then balances it on the edge of the ashtray.  Abigail was here this time but she was staring out of the window conspicuously silent.  He read the words and imagined a voice to go with them, they spoke to directly to him.

_W.B. Graham,_

_I hope these words find you well and that you enjoyed the last message I sent you.  I assume you received it but have wisely decided to not go to the police with this matter.  I would prefer to keep this just between you and I._

_It makes me so glad to know that you understand the gift in the spirit it was sent, a tribute to your mind.  I have never encountered anyone who has such insight into how the mind of a hunter works.  I came across you completely by accident although I feel now perhaps the fates conspired for us to know each other._

_Reading your work is like looking into a mirror, you have captured me and I feel as if I have known you for many years.  I wanted you to know the great source of happiness in my life which you have become.  I feel that you are perhaps far more like me than you would allow yourself to believe. Which leads me to ask, have you ever taken a life?  How did you feel when you did?  I feel strongly that you have and I would love to know the inner machinations that occurred after you did so._

_If you wish to correspond with me then leave your reply for me outside your door after midnight this evening.  Do not think to stay awake and catch me I have associates who will pick up and drop off our correspondence none of whom know who I am.  I shall not be offended if you do not wish to respond but I very much hope that you do._

_Your, as ever, most humble servant and admirer._

Will re-reads the letter several times he drinks many more glasses of bourbon as he does.  He watches as Abigail’s silhouette gets darker as the sun fades from the sky. His hands are shaking as he brings another cigarette to his mouth inhaling the nicotine so fast it makes his head spin slightly.  Abigail is still silent and will not turn to look at him which says it all really.  He worries she will not speak to him again and just remain at the window a stoic, silent presence in his apartment that only he can see.

He drinks more bourbon and smokes more cigarettes as he stares at the words on the page too intoxicated to even read them anymore.  Not that he needs to he can remember every single one as if it has been permanently burnt onto his brain.  He realises he is sitting in the dark and puts on the small lamp he has at his desk. 

_What do you expect to get out of this Will?  Reliving old wounds._

“I live those wounds every day you of all people should realise that.”   He responds bitterly the irony of his ghost telling him not to relive his past is not lost on him.

_You know what I mean._

“Do I?”  A pause and she looks hurt, he frowns and shakes his head, “to answer your question I don’t know, I don’t know what I expect to get out of this and I don’t know why I haven’t gone to the police, I do know it’s too late now I would look guilty.”

_You are._

“What? Guilty?” This is the first time she has ever called him guilty or alluded to the fact that he technically did murder her father.

_In some ways, yes._

He feels like all the wind has been taken out of him, she edges closer to him and he feels the temperature in the room drop as she does so and he shivers.  “I did what I had to Abigail and I tried to save you.”

_I know and I didn’t mean that.  I meant that you enjoyed it. You are guilty of enjoying taking my father’s life._

Will just drank another glass of bourbon and winced at the accuracy of these words.  He had enjoyed it, he had been wallowing in it with every murder he had written since.  It was his hands he had imagined holding a murder weapon or wrapped around a throat.  He knew that deep down inside himself he had just never allowed himself to admit it.  “It’s not that simple.”  He lied.

Abigail laughs _yes, yes it is.  There is a reason you have attracted this admirer there is a reason why the only person you can talk about it, is me._

“Because I’m insane.”

Abigail laughs again and crouches down in front of Will, moving her face close to his she smiles _because you are saner than you want to admit, you are waking up Will, waking up to who you really are._

Will smiles as he watches her slowly walk back to the window.  He checks the time on his watch eleven forty five.    He reaches for one of the cheap sheets of paper he uses to write his novels and a pen he scrawls the word _Yes_ on the paper folds it up and slides it under his door.  He downs another bourbon and sits in his chair in the dark watching the thin strip of light under the doorway.

 

\-----

 

Margot sits looking out onto Alana’s garden it’s a small space but very well looked after, even in the winter there are some flowers blooming its very quaint Margot thinks.  She cradles in her hands the warming tea that Alana made her before she left to go to the office.  Margot is finally alone for the first time in weeks and it feels strange.  Alana has not left her but eventually work has piled up and she needed to go in this afternoon.  Margot said she didn’t mind that Alana has gone above and beyond for her.  Secretly Margot was looking forward to some alone time but now that she has it she finds she misses Alana.

She feels safe here, a feeling she finds completely alien.  It is a strange feeling to not be on her guard, to not be on the defensive it makes her oddly want to cry.  The knowledge that she could if she wanted and it would not matter or be known, she could cry as loudly and for as long as she wanted and it wouldn’t matter is so bizarre.  Even if Alana came home to find her hysterically sobbing she would only offer comfort.  Margot almost laughs at the idea. She has not heard from Mason for a few weeks now which she finds perhaps a little strange but only because he usually gets bored and seeks her out for his amusement.  She is not even sure he knows she has been discharged.  Doctor Lecter has been keeping Alana updated and said he would let them know if he contacts them.  So far nothing.  _Strange_ , Margot thinks but right now in the this house that feels like home with a warm cup of tea in her hands and one of Will’s old books in her lap she can’t seem to find the need to care.

\-----

 

_Liam has received several more letters and every single one has made Jack wince.  He sits now with the copies of them spread across his desk trying to solve this puzzle.  The words Liam spoke at the crime scene are still ringing in his ears.  He knows he needs to solve this soon, it will not be long until this monster kills again.  He also knows that Liam is the key to this, Liam was always the one who would put the pieces together of course now Jack knows why.  This is more than that this killer obviously feels a connection to Liam a sick simpatico._

_Jack rubs his face and groans he knows what he needs to do and he knows it’s a risk.  Checking the time he realises it’s late and he should really go home.  Bella will be asleep he spoke to her earlier on the phone and told her he would be late.  She sounded sleepy then so he imagines her know fast asleep in their bed, each sleep gets a little heavier every time and it makes Jack ache with terror to know that eventually she won’t wake up from one.  He will have to live his life without her smile and gentle teasing, her smile and her voice.  He will keep her perfume but it won’t smell the same when not mixed with her own natural scent and soft skin._

_He shakes his head to dispel these thoughts and looks back at the letters, the ramblings of one mad man to another, unfathomable to him.  These days however Jack thinks he is closer to losing his sanity than he has ever been and the thought terrifies him.  Perhaps this is madness but he can only see one way out of this before someone other innocent family dies.  He picks up the phone and makes the call._

_\----_

Alana sent Chilton home she couldn’t deal with his questions for a moment longer, the faux concern was sickening.  She knows he is friends with Freddie Lounds and is fishing for details about Will and the connection between him and the murder which she is sure Freddie knows about and has tasked Chilton with finding out more.  She should fire him once and for all but he is very efficient and has a knack of routing out talented authors from the trash they get sent.  She sighs and pour herself a drink and light a cigarillo, her eyes are drawn to Will’s books she is almost at the end.  Will is coming by later to read the rest of it to Margot so Alana could wait and hear it then.   She knows she won’t, that she feels the need to leave the two of them alone.  She doesn’t want to intrude on their friendship. 

It will be strange to have Will at her house after all this time.  Now she has finally met him she feels an even greater swell of affection for him, she wants to take care of him even though she knows what his reaction would be if she expressed this or even tried to.  She sighs and takes another drag of her cigarillo, she wants to get back to Margot.  She gives in sits down and reads the final chapters.

 

_With Bella gone Jack feels a strange focus come over him.  He knows this double cross is risky but he also knows what the outcome will be no matter what.  Watching Liam be his true self is something akin to madness Jack feels like he is watching the manifestation of insanity walk and talk in front of him.  The word that comes to his mind is_ glee _._

_Liam has broken out of the police van and killed two officers and he is currently in the process of stealing a police car.  Jack watches all of this with only a certain amount of detachment.  He gets in and Liam drives them to a house on a cliff and Jack thinks_ this is perfect _._

Hannibal holds the note from Will in his hands and shivers as he reads the single word. He smiles and sips his wine, the rich velvet red slips down his throat as he thinks about W.B. Graham. Of course he knew Will had killed someone he had done his research, he knew about the Abigail Hobbs case.  It is interesting that he has admitted to killing someone, would he in the deepest reaches of his mind think of it as murder?  Hannibal thinks perhaps he does and perhaps the thought is not as deep as Will would like it to be. 

He places the glass down on the table and runs his finger over the word ‘yes’ before placing that down too and picking up a pen to write back.  As he writes the image of Will’s tired face floats in front of his eyes and he can’t help but smile. 

 

Lass is tired she has actually gone home and finds that despite being exhausted sleep alludes her.  The case photos flicker across her eyes every time she closes her eyes.  She gives up and gets up standing in her window she lights a cigarette breathing in the nicotine as she looks out over the city.  Her thoughts are clouded and jumbled she needs to sleep.  She sighs.  She knows she is close she can feel that this connection to Mr Graham is going to lead somewhere, she can feel it in her bones.  He is hiding something she knows it and she will find out what it is. 

She thinks maybe she should place a non-uniform officer on his apartment to watch him.  She needs a better excuse than just instinct, _maybe I could do it myself at a discreet distance._ She laughs as she thinks in Bev’s voice is in her head again ‘when would you sleep?’  She can use the pretence of protection, perhaps she should have someone cover Margot as well just in case. _Okay now I have a plan, sleep mind, just sleep._   She finishes her cigarette and goes back to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The early hours of the morning in Baltimore bring a special kind of peace and quiet. The snow is falling carefully covering everything in an eerie blanket of white. There is no one around the streets are empty and the houses are filled with sleeping people. Will’s street is bathed in an orange glow from the streetlamps, the air is soft and it feels like the world is resting peacefully, undisturbed in this small street.
> 
> A man walks down this peaceful scene, his footsteps quickly covered by the falling snow he is like a ghost. He walks with purpose and with grace, his coat is as black as the night sky, his hat is pulled low over his face and he carries in one gloved hand a letter with a name written in script on expensive paper. He does not seem to be of this world, he is distinctly other as he makes his way silently towards Will’s door.
> 
> He does not look up or around, he knows his destination, his knows his surroundings, he surpasses aware. He is a shadow, smoke, something that should not be.

_“How do you feel now we are here Jack?  At the final moment.”  Liam has changed out of his prison suit into his own clothes and he looks almost normal._

_“Is it the final moment?” Jack wishes it was but at this point he feels nothing and he thought that come the moment he would._

_“Is that not what you want?”  Liam says genuinely curious.  Jack shivers at how easily Liam slips into his mind, always two steps ahead.   “Now that you have lost the one thing you have loved more than anything else?”_

_Jack winces at that, he has nothing left to lose its true, Bella was his last salvation.  “It feels final I suppose, an ending to this, whatever it is between us.  Perhaps I have just been waiting this entire time, I died the day I realised what you truly were.  I never survived the guilt.”_

_“Perhaps, perhaps you never did.  Connected as we have always been.”_

_“I am not sure connected is the right word.”_ Conjoined, _Jack thinks would be more appropriate but he doesn’t say that._

_“Is it not?”  Liam sees the unspoken thought flitter across Jack’s mind and he wonders at it._

_“I would imagine ‘inconvenient’ would be the better word.  We are inconvenient for each other, our compassion and empathy for one another.  If I had not felt compassion towards you perhaps I would have killed you in the end, or you me.”_

_“There is no point going over the past Liam, what’s done is done.”  Jack doesn’t want to think about how he hesitated that night, how he didn’t pull the trigger, how he had imagined doing so every night since._

_“So you forgive me?”_

_Jack smiles a think smile. “Forgiveness is a tool pointed on both ends.”_

_Liam laughs a hollow laugh and looks out to the night sky “he is here, watching us.”_

_A gunshot rings out, the sound slicing through the air moments before the blood leaves Liam’s body as he is shot.  Jack watches as Liam falls to the ground slumped up against the door.  The glass from the window shatters moments after and a man Jack knows is the monster who has been killing families and writing to Liam strides through confidently holding a gun which is pointed straight at Jack.  Usually Jack would flinch or his body would react before his mind but in this instance he finds his eyes are drawn to the blood pooling on the floor beside Liam, it’s a sight he finds oddly comforting._

_Liam is smiling at Jack part grimace part something else. The monster’s eyes move  to Liam on the floor and it is then that Jack reacts removing the knife he has secreted in the back of his trousers and lunges towards the intruder, he grabs for the man one arm around his neck squeezing, with the other he brings the knife to the monster’s chest and sinks it into flesh.  Liam watches all of this with glee and manages to stand lunging towards them he begins to land strong punches into the man’s face Jack continues the assault with the knife._

_Blood is covering all of them, it seep’s out of them warm and sticky.  Pumping out with exertion.  To see Liam like this so feral is overwhelming to Jack.  The monster manages to throw Jack off his back and punches Liam in the face, they all stumble out to the patio which overlooks the ocean.  The monster is breathing heavily his chest is covered in deep, dark blood that looks black in the moonlight._

_Liam moves first tackling the monster to the ground raining punching at his head.  Jack watches this in almost slow motion until he takes the knife and runs it across the monster’s throat they both watch as the life gurgles from him, bubbles of red-black, a moan, a strained almost breath and then warm flowing blood turning to cold and the sudden stillness of death._

_Jack takes a step back as he watches Liam also stand, holding his hand against the flesh wound from the gun. “Jack.”  He says breath heavy and laboured he stumbles towards Jack who is moving back towards the cliff edge knife still in his hand as blood drips from the edge to the stone._

_“This is all I ever wanted for you.”  Liam says he sounds euphoric and Jack realises he feels euphoric too and is suddenly gripped by a sense of purpose he has not felt since Bella became ill.  He thinks of her face, her smile and her laugh and makes the decision that he knew he would.  Jack lunges at Liam sinks the knife in his side, clinging onto him with his other arm he hauls them both over the cliff edge and they fall in to the broiling sea below._

 

\------

 

The early hours of the morning in Baltimore bring a special kind of peace and quiet.  The snow is falling carefully covering everything in an eerie blanket of white.  There is no one around the streets are empty and the houses are filled with sleeping people.  Will’s street is bathed in an orange glow from the streetlamps, the air is soft and it feels like the world is resting peacefully, undisturbed in this small street.

A man walks down this peaceful scene, his footsteps quickly covered by the falling snow he is like a ghost.  He walks with purpose and with grace, his coat is as black as the night sky, his hat is pulled low over his face and he carries in one gloved hand a letter with a name written in script on expensive paper.  He does not seem to be of this world, he is distinctly other as he makes his way silently towards Will’s door.

He does not look up or around, he knows his destination, his knows his surroundings, he surpasses aware.  He is a shadow, smoke, something that should not be.

The man walks to the door and lets himself in as easily as if he had a key.  Earthly things such as locks and doors do not keep such a creature at bay not if he has decided to let himself in.  Making his way up the stairs he makes no noise, not a single floorboard creaks, not a mote of dust is unsettled.  Closer and closer he gets to the door he seeks, no-one hears him, no-one feels him.  He is singular in purpose and divine in nature.

As he reaches his destination he stops just outside the door, he places a gloved hand to the wood, closing his unearthly eyes he sniffs the air and listens.  He can hear breathing, steady and constant, the sleep of the dead he thinks to himself.  Just as he suspected W.B. Graham drinks until he can drink no more.  He waits to make sure listening to the waves of unconsciousness as they drift through the wood to his hand through his body to his ears.

He opens the door just as you expect this being to be able to.  He can feel the spectre that haunts Will cold against his shoulder and he smiles _I won’t hurt him_ he think and the cold lingers but eventually dissipates.  He makes his way into the dimly lit apartment silently closing the door behind him.  He looks around at the book shelves filled with his own novels and some others, running his hand along the spines he smiles.  The man then spies the well-used typewriter at the table, a pile of cheap typing paper next to it, a small pot of pens and pencils, an over flowing ashtray and a ring where a glass has been placed. 

The man spends some time looking at the type writer it is a beautiful machine.  He places the letter he holds on the desk for a moment  sits down in the chair and puts both hands on the keys of the typewriter, closing his eyes he allows the image of Will writing here to wash over him.  He does not linger though not when Will himself is sleeping in the armchair close by.  The man stands up and silently makes his way over to the sleeping Will, a glass precariously balanced in one hand, cigarette down to ash in his other hand. 

In sleep he looks pensive, he looks as if he is dreaming of things he wishes to escape.  The man smiles as he takes this in.  The man then very gently removes the glass and cigarette from Will’s hands placing the glass exactly in the ring of the desk and the cigarette end in the overflowing ashtray.  The man then returns his attention to the sleeping Will. 

\-----

 

Alana is fuming by the time she returns from the office.  She finds Margot as she left her sat in the chair over-looking the garden she has dozed off to a light sleep covered in a cashmere blanket.  The mug with the tea Alana had made her long since cooled.  The dusk light is catching her face as she breathes little huffy breaths in her sleep.  The sight helps to calm Alana slightly as she pulls off her coat, gloves, hat and scarf, she makes her way to the bottle of port she keeps on the side and pours herself a glass she sips at the deep red liquid.  She sighs and turns the small lamp on she is quiet not wanting to wake Margot who nevertheless stirs at the sound of the lamp.

Stretching her limbs Margot smiles when she sees Alana “you are back.  I must have fallen asleep I was watching the snow.”

Alana smiles back and makes her way over to Margot sitting in the chair next to her. “It’s good you slept you need to rest.”

Margot looks at Alana who looks pale, she notices the drink in her hand not something she usually sees. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, it’s nothing I don’t want to bother you with it.”

“There haven’t been more murders have there?  Is Will alright?”

Alana reaches out and touches Margot’s knees with her hand “no, no more murders and as far as I know Will is fine.”

The way Alana says Will’s name makes Margot wince.  “Ah, you got to the end.”

“You knew?”  She knows it’s ridiculous but she feels a little betrayed.

“I didn’t for sure but it seemed like that’s where it was heading and Will was being cagey about the ending.  Bringing the partner back just spelt trouble for me.”

Alana smiles and realises she should have seen it coming too.  “Has he read the end to you yet?”

“No, we have one last chapter to go.”

“Well I just don’t know what he is going to do.  Jack has been the hero of his books for years, people love him.  It’s ridiculous to create an entirely new character from scratch, a whole new series.  He has an established audience they are going to be furious.”  Alana drinks a large sip of her whiskey.

Margot smiles “maybe he needed a change.”

“That’s fine he can write other things but to kill off Jack is so final.  He should have discussed it with me.”

“You aren’t going to make him change it are you?”

Alana had thought about it but knew in the end she wouldn’t she respects Will too much. “I want to talk to him about it.”

“He won’t change it you know that.”

“I know.  I’m just so angry with him!  He knows he can talk to me!”

“He does know that. He is just not very good at talking to people.  He barely talks to me.”

“When is he coming over?”

“Tomorrow night I believe.”

“Well that gives me day to cool down a bit then.”

Margot smiles and Alana can’t help but smile back suddenly feeling a lot less angry.

 

\-----

 

Will wakes up in his bed.  He is confused for a moment as he does not remember how he got there, he must have woken up in the night and made his way here.  It would not be the first time he has woken up with no memory of how he went to sleep. 

_He was here._

Abigail is stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, stern expression on her face.

“Who?”

She raises her eyebrows _your admirer he left another note._

“What?”  Will gets out of bed and makes his way into his lounge walking past Abigail to his desk he see it lent against his typewriter.  “How did he get in?”

_Locks don’t seem to trouble him._

Will makes his way to the letter and picks it up, the envelope is the same as all the others, the writing is the same sloping script.  He looks around his apartment holding the letter, nothing has been moved that he can see.

He makes his way to his armchair and sits down to open the letter.

 

_My Dear Will (would you object to me calling you Will? I feel as if we know each other so much better now.)_

_I hope you also forgive my rudeness at breaking in.  I endeavour to not disturb you I just wanted to get your scent, see where your muse is recorded.  Most indulgent of me I admit._

_I am happy that you wish to correspond though I hope your next letter will contain more than a single word – man cannot live on bread alone!  I long to hear your words, they nourish me in ways I had never expected.  I eagerly await the publication of your next novel._

_Perhaps in order to illicit a more lengthy response I must give you more to respond to.  I made reference in my last letter to the question of whether you had taken a life or not.  I now must admit that indeed I knew the answer to that question already.  Now I can see you are willing to be honest with me I shall play no more games with you._

_I know of your final case as a Private Investigator and the devastating loss of the young girl you valiantly tried to save.  You ridded the world of a monster though and for that you must feel pride, a sense of justice perhaps?  Righteousness?  Does it feel good to do bad things to bad people Will?  How does that sense of ridding the world of that which does not belong feel?  I think perhaps you hide from yourself, your true nature.  Perhaps you feel it lurking deep within in, shifting and moving ready to be born.  I can help you Will, I can help you become that which you most fear, that which you most long for._

_Please indulge me and tell me what it felt like to pull the trigger, to end the life that caused so much pain and suffering?  Tell me, Will, tell me so you can finally tell yourself._

_I eagerly await your response…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and staying with me! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Comments and kudos are lovingly adored and keep my self flagellation at bay! This story keeps me up at night! xxx


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will makes his way over to Alana's to read the final chapters to Margot and face Alana. On his way there he bumps into someone unexpected.   
> Lass is picking up a scent around Will who she is sure is hiding something....

Lass is reading through the surveillance reports of Will Graham’s apartment.  They don’t make for very interesting reading.  She has had an officer parked outside his place twenty four hours a day for the past week.  It’s not that busy of a street or apartment block so nothing noteworthy.  He himself rarely leaves his apartment, he has left twice for a few hours to go and see Margot Verger who is staying at Alana Bloom’s so her sources tell her, he has left a few times to buy supplies from the local market a few blocks down.  Other than that he has had no visitors and done nothing.

She wonders what on earth he is doing in there all day and night other than drinking himself into an early grave. He has finished his latest book so he is not working on that, maybe he has started a new one already.  She makes a decision to speak to Alana and Margot again perhaps they can shed some light on his habits. 

It’s too late now she checks her watch and its gone eleven at night she sighs and leans back in her chair stretching her legs.  There is a knock on the door which makes her jump and then she sees Bev pop her head through “thought you might still be here.”  She says as she moves the rest of her body in to the office and closes the door behind her.

“Didn’t think you would be.”  Lass says not unkindly.

Bev smiles and shrugs her shoulders “I suppose it takes one to know one.”

Lass looks at her questioningly.

“Workaholics.”  Bev clarifies and they both laugh and nod.

“What are you working on?”  Lass asks as Bev flops down on the sofa and puts her feet up on the table.

“Our ripper.”

“Ripper?”

“Yeah Brian and Jimmy have started calling him that, if it is the same person.”

“The Chesapeake ripper.”  Lass says and Bev nods approvingly.

“Much better.” 

“Any progress?”

“No, not really whoever this is they know how to cover their tracks.”

“What’s bugging me is the connection to Will.  There must be a clue there, a thread we can pull.”

“I’ve been looking into his past and his past cases and I can’t see anything that jumps out even the last one with the young girl there is nothing I can see.  Maybe it is just some deranged fan.”

“Maybe.”  Lass stands up and makes her way to her murder board as Bev is fond of calling it, she looks at the picture of Cassie Boyle.  “This just isn’t the act of someone who is deranged this is the act of someone who plans, who wants to illicit a specific reaction.  I mean it’s like a love letter.”

Bev raises her eyebrows “a love letter?”

“Yeah a homage to Will and his work.”

“You think the killer has a crush.”

“Maybe.”

 

\----

 

Will is making his way to Alana’s its late afternoon he had trouble getting out of bed this morning and then he spent too much time reading the letter over and over again.  Now he is trudging through the bitterly cold Baltimore wind, hands stuffed in his pockets, hat pulled down on his head.  He craves a cigarette but he still has no idea where his gloves are and he is sure that if he has his hands out in this weather he will get frostbite.  He keeps his head down and most people avoid him as he gives off waves of anxiety that tend to put people off.  This is why he doesn’t like to leave his apartment but for Margot he would do anything and that police car outside his apartment, which he assumes Lass put there for his ‘protection’, is making him feel like a tiger at the zoo.  Everyone looking in while he paces fruitlessly up and down.

It is a bit of a trek to Alana’s she lives in a much nicer part of town than him.  He needs to walk up to the streetcar or if he sees one he will flag a taxi but they are rare in this weather.  The bracing cold is actually helping him clear his head, he has been in a bourbon fog for the last few days and hasn’t really been eating.  Abigail has become more taunting and sullen, he appreciates the respite from the haunting.  His mind however still cannot help wander to the letter and the person who wrote it.  Has he met him?  Have they passed on the street and not known it?  Does he know them well?  He thinks about the people he does know, which are not many, and he cannot imagine any of them as a killer.  Then again that’s what people say about killers, it’s the quiet ones, the people who seem normal right up until they aren’t.

He thinks about himself, how he used to be normal.  He used to hold down a job that meant he went outside interacted with people.  Then he became a killer, he crossed that line and now he is in a blurred area.  He wonders at how not shocked he is that a man who has possibly committed as many murders as Lass seems to think he has would be drawn to him.  Of course he would because they are two sides of one coin.  This is a man who has embraced his darkness while Will still wallows in his.  Will tries to exorcise his demons through the written word but they just keep coming back no matter how hard he tries to expel them. He feels drawn to this person though despite himself, he feels a pull towards them that is hard to resist. 

He wrote a bourbon fuelled response to the letter which has been unable to read back to himself.  Every word felt like a deepening of a chasm inside him.  He is undecided as to whether he is going to leave it outside his door when he returns this evening.  He knows he shouldn’t he knows he should go to Lass with all of this as she is inevitably going to find out.  Although the cop she has left watching Will is usually asleep or eating whenever he has sneaked a peak out of the window.  She should really get some better staff.

Eventually he makes his way to the streetcar and sits down.  It’s busy, filled with grumpy, cold commuters.   He manages to find a seat by the window where can he watch the city go by.  He so rarely ventures much further than the market these days so is pleasantly reminded that Baltimore is actually quite a nice city.  He watches the buildings, the cars, and the people living ordinary lives with a sense of otherness.  It is all a world he used to be a part of that now he looks at through a fogged up window.  These days he usually feels barely human and most assuredly not a part of the world. 

He almost misses his stop he is so caught up in his revelry and has to shove past a lot of passengers to make his way to the exit he nods at the driver who ignores him. Once out on the street the wind starts to pick up and he sticks his hands back in his pockets again, thinking he really should just buy himself some new gloves.  He is now craving a cigarette so badly he might just risk frostbite, especially as he pretty sure Alana must have finished the book by now and will probably fire him anyway so what will he need his hands for? _Drinking and smoking,_ he thinks idly.

It’s about a half hour walk to Alana’s so he hunches down and begins the trudge against the wind. Luckily not many people in this part of town walk anywhere so he is mostly alone on the streets.  He has his hat pulled down low on his head anyway so can’t see much more than feet as he makes his way through the streets.  This is how he notices the Italian leather brogues almost bumping into him. “Sorry.”  He mutters and wonders who on earth wears such impractical shoes in this weather.

“Mr Graham?”  The voice is smooth, accented and makes Will stop and look up, a flicker of recognition slides across his eyes as he realises he has just literally bumped into Doctor Lecter.  He is impeccably dressed in a woollen navy overcoat, what looks like a cashmere scarf and a deep yet somehow bright blue hat which has a feather in it.  Will notices somewhat enviously that he also has some warm looking brown leather gloves.

“Oh, hello Doctor Lecter.”  Will manages to look up and meet brown eyes.

“Please call me Hannibal. I assume you are visiting Miss Bloom and Miss Verger?”  He says with a warm smile.

“Yes actually.”  Will realises he has not actually spoken to anyone for a few days besides Abigail and is finding actual human interaction beyond his reach right now, this is not helped by his now near crippling craving for a cigarette.

“I have just come from there actually, checking up on Miss Verger.”

“You do house calls?”

Hannibal laughs, it is quite a pleasant sound, Will finds himself thinking as he manages a smile in response.

“No usually but Margot has a managed to find her way in to my heart and I was in the neighbourhood.”

“She does that.”  Will thinks of her soft smile and elegant charm, not unlike Hannibal himself.  “Oh do you live around here?”

“Yes a few blocks over.”  This is true he does indeed live close to Alana a fact he pretended to find out when Alana checked Margot out of hospital.

“Thank you for everything you are doing for Margot.  Is she okay?”

“She is healing nicely and Miss Bloom is taking excellent care of her.” Doctor Lecter says this with a glint in his eye that is not lost on Will and he smiles at the thought of something happening between Alana and Margot they would make a very handsome couple.

“I am glad to hear it.  Did you get the books you asked for?”

“Yes thank you very much.  They will come in useful in keeping in favour with the nurses.”  He had received the package of books and read them all cover to cover, he is undecided whether they will go to the nurses or stay in his study at home. 

“I hope you keep some for yourself.”  Will has no idea why he says this especially as Hannibal stated the last time he doesn’t read crime novels.

“A guilty pleasure perhaps.”  Hannibal says smoothly as if he has not read them all and devoured every word.

Will laughs and Hannibal wants to bottle that sound. “A generous description.”

“I have to admit I was intrigued when I saw them.  Margot’s artwork is very striking.”

“Yes that’s how we hook people in with actual talent and then they have to suffer through what is written.”  Will is glad he noticed the artwork, he is proud of Margot’s work.

“I am sure that is not the case.”

“It’s quite alright Hannibal I don’t need flattery, I survive mostly on bourbon and cigarettes.”

“An artists fuel for sure but I would not recommend it, I should have you, Margot and Alana over for dinner.  Give you some real sustenance to fuel your muse.” 

Will smiles and thinks of the four of them at a table together how out of place he would feel.  “I am not always the best company you may be better off with just Margot and Alana.”

“I disagree.”  Hannibal smiles and Will suddenly feels as if he is being inspected.

“I should let you go I am sure you have important places to be and it’s freezing.”  Although looking at Hannibal right now he does not look cold he looks perfectly composed. 

“Yes I do not want you catching your death.”  He says and Will thinks of the odd tone in which he says it and then remembers he is wearing a threadbare winter coat and shivering, how pale he probably looks because he has not had a proper meal in days and feels suddenly embarrassed.  Adding to that the pity dinner invitation and Will wants the ground to open up and swallow him.

“I am bound to catch it sooner rather than later at this rate.”

Hannibal laughs again and gently touches Will fleetingly on the shoulder “I certainly hope not.  Have a good evening Will and I shall be in touch regarding dinner.”  With that he tips his hat at Will and glides away on his expensive shoes around the corner.

 

By the time Will arrives at Alana’s he is literally shaking with need for a smoke which is increased by the look on Alana’s face as she opens the door. “You finished it.”  He says.

“Yes.”

“Can I come in I’m freezing and I really need a cigarette.”

“Will how have you not bought gloves yet?”  Margot shouts from inside.

Alana rolls her eyes and lets him in “I don’t usually allow it in the house but as it’s you.  Come in you do look freezing.”

Will does his best attempt at a charming smile as Alana takes his coat, hat and scarf hanging them up in the hallway she leads him through to Margot who is sat on a comfy looking armchair with a blanket over her legs near the roaring fire.  He makes his way over to her and gives her a hug then lights a cigarette standing by the fire for the warmth.

Alana pours Will a bourbon which he gratefully takes from her. “Thanks Alana.”

“You just missed Hannibal.”  Margot says and Will looks at her she looks happy and it’s a nice look to see on her.

“I bumped into him on my way here.”

“Oh did you!”  Margot smiles, “I am glad I was disappointed he had to leave before he saw you, you have both been so kind with everything.”

“Of course Margot, you are my friend.  He wants to invite us all over for dinner I think he thinks my diet of bourbon and cigarettes might not be good for me.”

Alana laughs “ooh I hope so I have heard he is an amazing cook.”

“From who?”  Margot asks intrigued.

“Well you know he lives around here I got talking to some of the neighbours and apparently his dinner parties are legendary.  He is very active with opera crowd.”

“I did not peg you as a gossip Alana.”  Will says not unkindly.

“I am not a gossip it just came up!” 

“We should go it would be nice.”  Margot says.

Will looks at her “you two should go.”

“Oh Will one night in polite company will not kill you!”

“Are you sure?” He says and laughs.  “Have you read the end?”  He directs this question at Margot in the hope to change the subject which she does not miss but decides to let him off as he has come all this way to see her.

“No, I wanted to hear it from you.  It just isn’t the same otherwise.” 

Will smiles and feels a warmth that he always feels from Margot, she makes him feel like less dark somehow, lighter around the edges.

“Then I had better get on with it.”  He says and downs the rest of his drink much to Alana’s chagrin which Margot notices with amusement.

“Here” Alana says handing him a copy of his manuscript, she sits down and lights a cigarillo and sips at a whiskey.  Will cocks an eyebrow at her “well I said I don’t _usually_ allow smoking inside.  I don’t usually smoke just when I read your books.”  Will smiles glad at his ability to corrupt.  “Do you need anything Margot?”

“No, I am perfect thank you.”  She says as she looks at her two of her most favourite people in the world, she wishes Hannibal could have stayed but apparently he had somewhere to be.  She smiles at both Will and Alana as Will begins to read the final chapters out loud.

 

\-----

 

Hannibal finds Mason Verger exactly where he expected to.  Having had him followed for the last few weeks.  He waits outside the exclusive club and with the greatest of ease presses the syringe into Mason’s neck as he easily takes the weight of the body as he instantly falls unconscious.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal the creepy stalker...no....it was just coincidence....
> 
> Comments are a joy to me as this fic is making my brain hurt. Kudos are a balm to my soul xxx


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lass gets closer to figuring things out after Mason Verger turns up in rather disturbing circumstances. Hannibal finally gets a reply from Will.

“You won’t believe this boss.”  Bev says as she appears in Lass’ office.  Lass finds herself oddly disappointed that she is calling her ‘Boss’, even though they are at work and her door was open.

Lass looks up at Bev who has a very strange expression on her face somewhere between excitement and horror.  _The usual_ , Lass thinks, _in this line of work._

“What is it?”

“We found another body and you won’t believe who it is.”

Lass slips on her shoes under her desk and stands up, “another Chesapeake Ripper victim?  Who is it?”

“Mason bloody Verger!” Bev exclaims.

“Margot Verger’s brother?”  Lass asks disbelieving.

“One and the same he has been found strung up and half devoured in his own pig farm.”  Bev knows she shouldn’t find this as macabrely funny as she does but sometimes humour is the only the way to deal with this job.

“You are kidding?”  Lass says with a similar hint of humour in her tone as she thinks _couldn’t have happened to a nicer chap._

“Nope and it’s got our guy written all over it the way the body has been displayed the fact that not a single member of the estate farm saw anything.” Bev smiles as she watches Lass pull on her coat, scarf and finally hat.

“He is getting bold he doesn’t usually go after high profile victims.”

“Well Mason did piss a lot of people off. He was known to be a problematic character, his rap sheet was a mile long despite never being charged with anything, fancy lawyers always getting him off.” Bev brought up his file before coming here.

“I guess he finally pissed the wrong person off.  This does strengthen my theory about this being connected to Will though.”

“Or to about Margot.”

“Maybe, I need to see the body, grab the rest of the team.”

“Already waiting Boss.”  Bev says as Lass rushes past her like she can smell blood.

 

They are standing in a large barn at the Verger Estate.  Zeller is taking pictures, Price is making notes and Bev is standing next to Lass as they take in the gruesomely ridiculous scene of Mason Verger’s death.  All the pigs have been cleared out but their musty scent and the smell of Mason’s half eaten body is still ripe even in this large, freezing barn.  Mason has been strung up from a meat hook and then lowered into the pen. He is naked and tied up which seems to suggest he was alive when he was devoured by the pigs.  Most of his lower body is gone, ripped shred remain, his face is still intact the pigs couldn’t quite reach that, its distorted in agony with a gag in his mouth, some tears still frozen on his face.

It was a brutal and long winded way to kill someone. 

“When was he found?”  Lass asks.

“Early this morning.”  Bev responds checking her notes.  “The pigs were last checked on at nine o’clock last night and as far as any of the staff know no one came in or out of the pen all night.”

“No-one heard anything?”  Lass says, “I mean even if Mason was gagged surely the pigs would have been noisy.”

“Apparently the sound from here doesn’t travel very far and sometimes odd foxes and animals get in and the pigs get riled up so if someone did hear something its likely they would have thought it was just that.”  Zeller chimes in.

“There are a lot of staff on this farm, how did he get past them with Mason?” Lass asks Bev.

“No idea.” 

“Is there anything he left behind at all?”  Lass asks Price and Zeller who both turn and look at them.

“Not that I can see,” Price says somewhat exasperated, “the pigs have contaminated a lot of the scene. I cannot immediately tell if there any organs missing we would need to do autopsy’s on the pigs to find that out.”

“The Verger estate will love that if we want to slaughter all their prized pigs so we can piece together their owner.”  Lass says and imagines the army of lawyers that will be sent her way at the suggestion.  She will cross that bridge when she comes to it. “Has Mason Verger been missing?”  Lass asks surely someone would have noticed his absence.

Bev looks at her notes again “he was last seen leaving the exclusive gentlemen’s club in Baltimore the night before last, he left alone.”

“No one saw him all of yesterday?”

“No.”  Bev double checks.

“No one reported him missing or thought it strange he didn’t come home.”  Lass asks.

“According to the staff he often spends the night in the city unannounced so they didn’t think anything of it.”

“Hmmm.”  Lass mulls this over.  The killer probably took Mason as he left the club, drugged him or knocked him out somehow.  “We need to check who was at the club that night and if they saw anyone hanging around outside, any suspicious vehicles.”  Bev makes a note. “I need to talk to Margot Verger and Will Graham.”

 

 

\----

It’s Alana that opens the door to Detective Lass she can see by her face that something has happened, something bad.  Lass is ushered straight through to the lounge to see Margot who goes pale at the sight of her.

“What’s happened?”  Margot says her voice shaky.

Lass sits down next to Margot removing her hat placing it next to her and then covers Margot’s hand with her own “I am afraid I have some bad news.”  Lass keeps her tone even as she watches Margot’s eyes widen and all the colour drain from her face.  “It’s about Mason.”

“Mason?”  Margot repeats.  “What has he done?”

Lass notices Alana is hovering behind Margot and at the mention of Mason’s name has put a hand on her shoulder and is squeezing slightly. 

“He hasn’t done anything.  I am very sorry to say that he has been found murdered.”

There is a moment of silence as the two women take this news in.  Margot is the first to speak her voice is low and soft “he’s dead.” 

“Yes I am afraid so.  His body was found this morning at the Estate.”

“The Verger Estate?”  Alana asks her voice is also low and quiet.

“Yes.”

“He was murdered?”  Alana asks.

“Yes.”

“How?”  Margot asks looking at Lass as if she was a ghost.

“In a rather gruesome manner I am afraid.  It seems as if someone fed him to the pigs.”

“The ones he was breeding, in the large pen?”  Margot says this with a shiver of a memory, something dark burning the edges of her words.

“Yes.  It appears he was alive when he was strung up and lowered into the pen.”  Lass watches both women for a flicker of a reaction, they both seem to be in shock.

Lass can see something is going through Margot’s mind, a thought, a memory, the way Mason died means something to her.  “Margot, does the way Mason died mean anything to you?”

Margot looks down and then up and at Alana who gently nods in encouragement, another squeeze of the shoulder. “He said he would feed me to them one day.”

“He threatened you?”  Lass asks.

“He threatened me every day of my life Detective that was just the way he was.  It was one of many threats he made, a recent one though granted.  He would joke about feeding me to them, he made a person of meat of wrapped it in my clothes for the scent.”

Lass attempts not to be horrified, she is not altogether surprised as she has heard many stories regarding the monster that Mason was.  “When was this?”

“Before my accident.”  Margot looks up at Alana again who smiles back warmly.

“I see.  Was anyone else witness to this conversation or knew about it?  Did you tell anyone?  Will Graham perhaps?”

“You think it’s the same killer as the one who murdered that girl?”  Alana asks.

“Yes, it seems likely.  Did you tell Will, Margot?”

“No, I don’t think so, no.”

“Did he know that your brother threatened you a regular basis?”

“Yes, you don’t think Will had anything to do with this?”  Alana asks.

“He wouldn’t not Will there is no way.  He is my friend and as much as he hated Mason on my behalf he wouldn’t kill him.”

Lass smiles her most gentle smile and pitches her voice as evenly as she can “I don’t think Will murdered anyone, plus I have had someone outside his apartment for the last week.  I do think there is a connection between the killer and Will, and possibly you.  I think it’s someone Will knows, maybe someone you both know.  Someone who is perhaps aware of the close relationship you two have or at least aware that you paint the covers for his novels.  How many people know that as you are not credited?”

Alana sighs “it’s the worst kept secret, it’s a fairly widespread rumour she does, not many people know for certain outside of myself, Will and Chilton.”

“Hannibal knows now.”  Margot remembers.

“Yes Doctor Lecter knows.”  Alana agrees.

Lass finds that suddenly interesting.  He does fit the profile, he knows both Will and Margot.  He doesn’t seem the sort to be fanatic of crime novellas though, but then neither did Bev.  She files it away to think about, perhaps mention to Will when she questions him.

“I will be speaking to Mr Graham again after I leave here so I will mention this to him, perhaps he has thought of someone.”  Lass is planning on asking Will a lot questions.  “While we are on the subject of Will, if you don’t mind me asking do you know what he does with his time if he isn’t writing?”

Margot looks sad for a moment, it’s a look Lass feels Margot makes a lot when it comes to Will. “He drinks and he smokes.  He leads a hermit like existence.  I didn’t know him before.”

“Before?”  Lass asks.

“Before he became a writer.  When he was a PI but I have heard from others he was quite the character, very good at his job too.  Now he mostly keeps himself to himself, that last case, that young girl dying took a toll on him that he has not been able to recover from.  He is a haunted man Detective Lass.”

“Does he ever talk about that case?”

“Once, we got drunk one night at his apartment a few months after we met and he told me what happened.”

“What did he say?”  Lass notices that Alana is also looking interested, clearly he has never spoken to her about it.

“He said he wasn’t quick enough, he should have known, he should have reacted quicker.  He said it’s a moment he plays over and over in his mind and will until the day he dies.  It is his biggest regret that he wasn’t there a second earlier.  He blames himself for that girl’s death, he carries that burden with him and always will. He has no regrets about killing Hobbs though he would do it again in fact in his mind he does again and again but just one second sooner.”  Margot looks Lass directly in the eye when she says this, a challenge.  Lass knows in this moment that Margot would do anything for Will and visa versa. “We share the knowledge of what it feels like to be traumatised Detective Lass.”

Alana squeezes Margot’s shoulder once more, she looks down at her with admiration and what looks a lot like love to Lass’ untrained eyes.

\----

Hannibal opens the letter with reverence as if he holds the word of god in his hands, as if is his eyes read the divine word straight from the source. It is typed on cheap paper, the same kind Hannibal assumes and hopes Will writes his novels on.  He brings the paper to his nose to smell the remnants of cigarette smoke and the lingering notes of bourbon.  It smells like inspiration.  He is ensconced in his study, a glass of red wine poured, the muffled screams of Mason Verger still singing in his ears.  Unfolding the paper he begins to devour the words as if he hasn’t eaten in days.

_To my admirer (I suppose that is what I should call you…it makes me shake slightly to do so…the thought that someone such as yourself might admire me makes my flesh crawl.)_

_You are right as you must know you are, I am sure you have done your research, it does not take much digging in my garden to reveal the blood soaked earth beneath the surface.  It oozes out at any given opportunity, it seeps out singing my name in thick molasses.  I killed a man and I caused a woman’s death, I failed to save her and so I killed her too, her name is on my list of victims.  I wonder if you remember the names of your victim’s?  Do you remember every single one of their screams?  Are you as haunted as I?_

_You asked me how it felt to take a life. It felt righteous, it felt good I suppose in the deep recesses of my psyche.  I have to admit that yes perhaps it did feel good killing a man such as the one I killed.  A man who in many respects resembles yourself._

_I don’t know what more you want me to say, perhaps now I have given you this morsel you will leave me alone.  I do not wish to be courted by a mad man and I do not wish to have any more blood on my hands._

Hannibal smiles and sips his wine, he closes his eyes before he reads it again imagining Will’s voice speaking to a loud to him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos smell like the paper Will writes his novels on. xxx


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lass is getting closer, she just needs proof but she is playing a dangerous game. Will and Margot find comfort in each other but for Will this could be short lived...

Margot is staring out of the window watching the snow fall.  She feels strange, as if she should feel something, as if whatever it is she is going to feel is a wave suspended above her head ready to crash down and drown her.  She tries to imagine tears falling down her face, how they might feel, the warmth, the salty sting of them.  The feeling just won’t come.  She should feel relief at least or perhaps anger.  Instead she feels a numbness that is growing like ice on a window, cracking at her insides, piercing and freezing her organs.

“Margot.”  His voice is soft and it wraps around her like a blanket.  She feels tears then, she closes her eyes and tries to stop them she can feel a scream perched under her chin.  She doesn’t turn around.  “Margot.”  He repeats her name like a soft caress and she can feel that ice melt under her skin, a warmth spreading threatening to burn her.  She doesn’t open her eyes.

He stands close behind her he hesitates but not for long “Margot turn around.”  He embraces her in his arms when she finally turns around, tears are streaming down her face hot and salty, she buries her face in the worn threadbare wool of his jumper, her fists are clenched against his chest as he holds her tightly and lets her cry. He smooths her hair with his hand as she cries resting his chin on her head he looks out into the snow. 

A lot of time passes as they stand there Margot gently sobbing on Will’s shoulder as he strokes her hair and makes soothing noises.  Eventually she looks up at him he smiles such an easy smile it makes her heart break slightly, she manages a slight quirk of her lips. “You came.”  She says her voice is cracked and worn like his jumper.

“Of course as soon as I heard.”

“Alana called you?”  She asks and Will nods.  Margot then places her head back on his chest, he feels thin but solid.

“She was worried about you.”

“Will?”  Her voice is quiet as she stares into nothing not looking up at him as she speaks just hearing his heartbeat and the feeling of his hand in her hair.

“Yeah.”

“Does this mean it’s over?” 

“In a way yes.  He’s dead he can’t hurt you anymore.  The hurt he left will always linger Margot but you are stronger than him and stronger than any of it.  You know that?”

“I don’t feel particularly strong right now.”  There is a crack of laughter in her voice and it echoes against Will’s chest.

“You are always strong Margot.  You know you are my hero right?”

She laughs again and he moves his hands to gently move her face to look up at him he smiles and kisses her forehead, she can feel the warmth of his lips against her skin, their eyes meet and he looks at her with such an open adoration it makes her feel skin itch at the depth of it. “Always Margot.  You are a survivor.  I wish I had half the strength you do.”

“I don’t even know what to do now.”

“You don’t need to do anything Margot not straight away.  Stay with Alana for a while I know she would like that.”  He winks at her and she smiles coyly.

“Thank you Will for coming.” 

He kisses her forehead again and then brings her back in an embrace feeling the warmth of her body against his as comforting to him and it is to her.  They stay there again for a while in silence until Margot parts from him and makes a joke about him needing a cigarette by now which he does not deny.

“Come outside. Alana doesn’t like the smell in the house.”  Margot says and Will rolls his eyes, “I could do with some fresh air anyway, we can walk around the block.”  Will agrees and they go to get their coats.  Alana is on the phone when they leave and Margot whispers they are going for a walk and she tells them not to be long.

Will helps Margot with her coat and scarf, he places a hat on her head and smiles. “Gloves?”  He asks and she nods and takes a pair of Alana’s.

“What about you?  Bought gloves yet?”  Margot asks knowing the answer.  She laughs at him. 

“We will have to huddle together for warmth.”  Will says and winks at her again.

They leave arm in arm and make their way around the block as the light from the day begins to wane. Walking through the snow leaving footprints behind them Margot breathes in the cold air with relief as Will smokes a cigarette, smoke curling in the frost air.

“So how are you?”  Margot asks Will who laughs.

“Me?  My brother wasn’t just murdered, I don’t think it matters how I am.”

“Yes it does and it’s a distraction I don’t actually care obviously.”  She smiles and he laughs again.

“Of course.”

“So how are you?”

He sighs, _being courted a killer, haunted by a ghost, watched by the police, you know the usual._ “Fine, Margot, the same.”

“You working on anything new?  Now that you have killed Jack.  Or is this a Sherlock Holmes and Reichenbach Falls situation?”

Will laughs again “Pressure from Alana or my fans.”

“Both.”

“What did you think?”

“Of the ending?”

“Yes.”

“I loved it.  I think it’s time you let Jack go, maybe write something else.  Maybe do something else.”

“Like what?”

“Anything Will.  You could do anything.  You could live, have a life, meet someone.”

“You know no one compares to you Margot.”

“Stop it, I am being serious.  You have to forgive yourself leave this prison you have created for yourself.”

“It’s not a prison.”

“It is.”

“Maybe of sorts.”  _Especially with the guards at the door_ , he thinks of Lass’ watch dogs waiting outside for him.

“I am just saying think about it, you could be happy Will, you deserve that, you know, to be happy.”

Will shrugs his shoulders and allows himself to believe it for a few moments in Margot’s easy company before he goes back home to a love letter from a killer, a ghost who is beginning to hate him and bottle of bourbon that needs to be emptied.

\-----

Lass is thinking.  She is staring at the murder board, as Bev calls it, and thinking.  Mason Verger’s gruesome picture a recent addition in stark contrast to the more elegant nature of the other crimes but she knows it’s the same man.  She know it deep in her bones, she knew it the moment she stepped foot on the farm, that feeling, that cold icicle in her stomach.  Now she is thinking about Doctor Hannibal Lecter.  Trying to reconcile the gentile, kind and charming man she met at the hospital, the effortless charm, the smooth way he speaks, the beautiful way he dresses with the man who would be capable of these crimes. 

He fits the loose profile she has managed to scrape together, but then so do half the surgeons in the Baltimore area.  She tries to think of the timeline of when Cassie Boyle was murdered it was around the time Margot was in hospital so it is conceivable that he met Will and became enamoured with him and his books.  She tries to reconcile that cool intelligence, sharp wit with the reading of crime novels.  Lass thinks of Bev again and smiles, _you cannot always judge a book by its cover although in this case perhaps you can._

She is thinking about this all wrong.  She needs to reconcile the killer to the type of person who would read crime novels.  Someone, especially a killer, can be more than one thing.  Could Doctor Lecter the smooth, charming Surgeon also be a cold blooded elegant mass murderer? She decides to pay him another visit, she checks the time it’s not too late.  She calls the hospital to find out if he is on shift, speaking to that rather strange nurse with the smoky voice who confirms he is.  Lass heads out into the snow hoping and not hoping that she is wrong.

 

 

When Lass arrives at the hospital she is once again confronted with the lift.  She takes a deep breath and channels all the things that Bev says about her being strong and brave, none of which she believes.  Mercifully the lift comes quickly and there are no stops to Hannibal’s floor and soon she is out of the small confined space breathing a sigh of relief.  This is short lived when she spots the blonde nurse at the nurses’ station eyeing her suspiciously.  Lass takes another deep breath and walks down the hallway towards her, she holds out her badge and says in her best policewoman voice “I am here to Doctor Lecter.”

A pause and slight pursing of lips and then the Nurse smiles “of course I can take you down to his Office.”  She stands up and makes her way around the desk before Lass can stop her.

“I know the way.”  Lass says, with a slight quiver in her voice.

“Please let me take you, it would be my pleasure.” 

Lass nods and follows the Nurse as she swings her hips down the hallway in front of her.  Finally they reach Doctor Lecter’s office and Bedelia knocks twice and they here a “yes?” from inside.

“Doctor its Nurse Bedelia you have a visitor are you available?”

Lass sighs and decides she has lost all her patience she pushes past the Nurse and opens the door to find Hannibal Lecter sat at his desk with a rather nice fountain pen seemingly working on some files.  “I have some questions for you.”  Lass says and ignores the death stare Bedelia is giving her.

Hannibal smiles “of course, please come in.   Nurse du Maurier that will be all thank you.”  Bedelia smiles at him and gives Lass one last glare and then leaves. “Apologies Detective, Nurse du Maurier can be a little over protective. Please sit.” 

Lass removes her hat and steals herself against that charm trying to see under his skin.  She makes her way to sit on the chair on the other side of Hannibal’s desk.  “What is it I can do for you Detective?”

“I wanted to ask you about when you first met Will Graham?”

Hannibal ponders this question and why Detective Lass might be asking it. “It was after Margot Verger came in for surgery, he was a frequent visitor.”

“That is what I thought.  Did you know anything of him previously as a writer?  Or when he was a PI?”

“No, I confess I did not know of his books until Nurse du Maurier mentioned him, I believe she enjoys his books many of the Nurses here do.”

“Not you though?”

“No, I have very little time to read anything other than medical journals.”

 _He’s lying_ , the thought comes to her clear as day, he is very good at lying perhaps a little too good, he is a practiced liar.

“Of course a busy man like yourself it is not surprising.”  He is not the only person who can lie well.

“Have you had any encounters with Will since Margot left the hospital?”

Hannibal pretends to consider this “yes, I met him on the street after I left Alana Bloom’s he was on his way to visit Margot and I had just come from there.”

“Do you make a habit of making house calls?”

Hannibal smiles easily and Lass can feel that cold icicle in her stomach.  _It’s him._

“No, not as a rule but Margot has a special place in my heart and I live close by to Miss Bloom so I wanted to check in on her.”  _She knows,_ he thinks, _how interesting._

“You met Will as you were leaving?”  He of course had known that Will would be there he had been keeping an even closer eye on Will’s movements than Detective Lass has been.

“Yes.”   He thinks of how Will looked in the snow in his threadbare coat, hands shoved in his pockets, hat pulled low on his head and smiles.

“When was this?”  Lass is sure Doctor Lecter has become enamoured with Will, she is convinced that it was no coincidence they met on the street.  She can see him now, she can see through that perfectly constructed person suit.

“A few days ago, I believe, Wednesday.”  _Just before I kidnapped Mason and murdered him,_ Hannibal thinks idly remembering the muffled screams with a fond satisfaction.

“At what time?” 

“Um,” Hannibal once again pretends to ponder, “around six ish I believe.”

“Did you know that Will was expected to visit?”

 _Yes of course,_ he thinks and then says with a practice nonchalance “Margot mentioned it yes, she wanted me to stay but I had other plans.”  _Plans to kill her worthless brother for her._

“Other plans?” _To kill Mason Verger._

“Yes, in the city, a social engagement.” 

“Where?”  Lass asks she is sure he will have an iron clad alibi but doesn’t hurt to check.

“A hospital fundraiser, at The Lord Baltimore Hotel.”  He was indeed there, he can be seen by many people when he needs to be and by none when he doesn’t want to be.  It appears Lass has seen him now and he knows he cannot let this stand.

“I see.”  She will check despite knowing what she will find.  “You did not know that Will would be visiting Margot before you arrived at Miss Blooms?”

“No, how would I know that?”

“I am not sure Doctor.” _Because you are stalking him,_ Lass thinks.  “That is the only time you have had contact with Will Graham since Margot left the hospital?”

“Yes, I invited him, Miss Bloom and Margot over for dinner next week but am yet to hear back from them.”  He had sent Alana a formal invite and hoped to hear back from them soon, sure that they would persuade Will to attend.

“You invited them over for dinner?” 

“Yes, I thought it would be a nice distraction for Margot after all she has been through.”  He has decided to pretend to not know about Mason as so far it has been kept out of the press.

“After all she has been through?” 

“Yes the accident, the surgery.”

“Now her brother.”  His lack of reaction is fascinating to Lass, he has been hiding in plain sight for years, perhaps his whole life.

“Her brother?”

“Yes Mason Verger was killed Wednesday night.”

“Killed?”

“Yes murdered.”

“Well I understand he had a lot of enemies.”

“Yes he did.”

 

 

\----

 

Will arrives home to another letter, crisp paper and his name typed.  He looks at the envelope on the floor, slipped under his door, as if it a bomb.  Removing his coat, hat and scarf, hanging them up haphazardly.  He makes his way to the kitchen pours himself a drink and then stares at the envelope from across the room.  Abigail is standing beside him with her arms crossed.

_Are you going to open it?_

“I told him to stop.”

_You knew he wouldn’t._

Will takes another large sip of his bourbon.  “I hoped he would.”

_No you didn’t._

Will downs the rest of his bourbon and makes his way to envelope he picks it up off the floor, turns it over and carefully opens it.  There is a photograph of Mason Verger strung up and screaming.  Will gasps and drops it on the floor, it flutter and lands face down there is something written on the back in sloping script this time.

_Doesn’t it feel good to do bad things to bad people?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for the late update! Comments and Kudos are hugely appreciated this fic is becoming my nightmare baby, I love it but it makes me head hurt!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The picture is still burning a hole in his desk drawer. 'Why did you keep that gruesome thing?' Abigail asks even though they both know the answer. He takes a drag of his cigarette and breathes out a cloud of smoke adding to the thick air in the small apartment. He really should open a window but that would entail getting up. He does not need to look at the picture he can remember the image exactly, it is burned onto his retinas. The way it makes him feel is perhaps not as surprising as he wants it to be. There is only so much that can be explained by his experience of violent crime as a PI and a writer. Those jobs do not entirely explain the feeling he has deep in his stomach of something else, a darkness shifting and moving, of hooves and hot breath against a cold sky.
> 
> 'This doesn’t have to be you.'

Will is sitting in his chair with the lights off.  It is a dull, gloomy Baltimore day, the snow looks more like slush and there is hardly any light filtering through the low clouds.  Not that Will has opened his curtains to look outside, in fact he has hardly left the chair today. Abigail is pacing up and down and he wishes she would stop, he feels dizzy just watching her.  _ Nothing to do with the bourbon.  _  He huffs at that and lights another cigarette before pouring himself another glass.  Margot’s face swims before his eyes, the tears and pain in her eyes, the relief she did not want to admit to herself.  Will can feel it for her though, he feels relief and happiness at Mason’s death. 

 

The picture is still burning a hole in his desk drawer.  _ Why did you keep that gruesome thing?  _  Abigail asks even though they both know the answer.  He takes a drag of his cigarette and breathes out a cloud of smoke adding to the thick air in the small apartment.  He really should open a window but that would entail getting up. He does not need to look at the picture he can remember the image exactly, it is burned onto his retinas.  The way it makes him feel is perhaps not as surprising as he wants it to be. There is only so much that can be explained by his experience of violent crime as a PI and a writer.  Those jobs do not entirely explain the feeling he has deep in his stomach of something else, a darkness shifting and moving, of hooves and hot breath against a cold sky.

 

_ This doesn’t have to be you.  _

 

Doesn’t it?  He thinks, perhaps this was always who he was and the rest of his life he was just pretending.  Perhaps the drinking, the hiding himself in his work is all just a way of avoiding the truth of who he is.  The moment he pulled the trigger and killed a man is the closest he has come to being himself his whole life.  

 

_ You think he is right?  That is does feel good to do bad things to bad people. _

 

He doesn’t answer that as they both know it does.  He replays that moment he killed Abigail’s father over and over in his mind not because he is traumatised, far from it, because he isn’t, because he should be. 

 

_ He was a bad man.  You tried to save me. _

 

He tells himself that all the time too, that the reason he shot and killed Mr Hobbs was because he was trying to protect Abigail even though he knew she was dead or dying.  He tells himself the feeling of righteous fury as he pulled the trigger ten times was just adrenaline even though he knows his heart rate never quickened.  _ The sign of a true predator.  _  He is not sure who thought that, him, Abigail or his murderous penpal.  Perhaps all three.

 

There is a knock at the door.  It is loud and determined and he recognises it immediately.   _ Lass. _

 

Will sighs there is no point pretending he is not in as she will have spoken to the fat, lazy guard dogs downstairs.  He downs the rest of his drink and puts the glass down on the small table, then stands up and takes a long drag of his cigarette before putting it out in the overflowing ashtray.  He makes his way slowly to the door and opens it a crack keeping the chain on. He peers through and sure enough Lass is stood there in her pant suit and overcoat, hat perched at an angle on her head, hair tied up in neat and clean bun at the nape of her head.  She looks determined and it makes Will’s heart sink.

 

“Detective.”  His voice is gruff from under use and too much smoking he coughs to clear it.  “Is there a problem?” 

 

“May I come in?”  She says edging closer to the door, she has phrased this like a question but he knows it is not a request and despite her small size Will is sure that she could break this door down and knock him to the floor with very little effort.

 

“Now is not the best time.”  Will is not sure why he is putting up a fight it’s just the rebellious nature he cannot seem to quit.  Abigail rolls her eyes at him and goes to stand by the window.

 

“I won’t take up much of your time Mr Graham I have something I would like to run past you.”  She leans in closer her voice reverberates through him and makes him feel as if he might be coming apart at the seams.  “It would be in your best interest to hear me out.”

 

Will sighs and knows he is fighting a losing battle. “Of course, hang on.”  He closes the door and leans his head against the wood taking a deep breath he then undoes the chain and opens the door, moving aside to allow Lass in.  She takes one look at Will, the darkness of his apartment, the ripe nicotine laced smell and frowns. 

 

She makes her way inside and Will closes the door behind her.  “Can I get you a drink?” Will offers.

 

“Perhaps some coffee?  For both of us.” Lass needs Will be at least semi-conscious for this conversation.  Will laughs but nods and goes to the kitchen, on the way he picks up his cigarettes and lights another balancing it precariously between his lips.  Lass walks around the apartment as Will makes coffee, noticing the small desk with the typewriter, the stack of blank crumpled paper beside it. Will is clearly not working on anything new. She turns on the lamp so there is some light before making her way to the bookshelves where she finds his complete works in scruffy paperbacks, a few other crime novels and a lot of books about fishing and camping which she is surprised by.  However none of those look as well thumbed through as the rest.

 

Eventually Will is done making the coffee which he has made strong, he turns around making his way to the lounge to find Lass by the bookshelves, he notices she has turned on his desk lamp and momentarily panics that she opened the drawers but nothing in the look she has gives the impression she is any more than her usual level of suspicious of him.  “Sorry I don’t have any cream or sugar so its black.” He says handing a sorry looking mug filled with strong smelling coffee.

 

Lass smiles as she takes the mug “how I drink it anyway.”

 

Will still has the cigarette balanced in his mouth he takes a drag of it before removing it to take a large gulp of the coffee.  “You like to fish?” Lass says pointing to the books.

 

He laughs and takes another drag of the quickly diminishing cigarette. “In another lifetime.”  Will used to fish when he used to go out, when he used to better at pretending. He would stand in a stream and make the rest of the world go away, it was like a reset for him.  Solving many a difficult case when he came back as if he was looking through fresh eyes. He has not been since he stopped being a PI. “Used to be quite good.”

 

“Never tried it myself.”  Lass says sipping at the coffee, it is strong but good.

 

“I always found it helped clear my mind.”  Will moves back to his chair feeling slightly wobbly and sits down.

 

“And now?”  Lass watches as Will unsteady on his feet flops down on the armchair.  She looks around and the only other chair in the room is the one at the desk.  She makes her way over there as Will watches, attempting to be calm, she puts her hand on the back of the chair as if to move to it “may I?”  Will nods and Lass moves the chair closer to Will and sits down, she removes her hat and places it on her lap as she cradles the mug of coffee between her hands.  “Sorry you were telling me why you don’t fish.”

 

Will looks at her as he finishes his cigarette and puts it out on the ashtray and almost subconsciously lights another one and takes a drag.  He looks at the bottle of bourbon longingly, wishing he could put a splash in his coffee. “I find my writing clears my mind enough.” He says with no small amount of irony.

 

Lass laughs “are you working on anything new?”

 

“What is it I can help you with Detective?”  Will says avoiding the question as they both know the answer is no.

 

Lass smiles “I was wondering if you can tell me anything about Doctor Lecter?”  As she says his name she looks at Will for any kind of reaction. The only one she can discern is confusion.

 

“Margot’s Doctor?”   _ What does he have to with any of this?,  _ Will thinks.

 

“Yes.”

“Well I am not sure what you mean, I have only met the man a couple of times.”  

 

“Just at the hospital?”  Lass asks.

 

“Yeah, oh no once when he was leaving Alana’s he had gone around to check on Margot and I bumped into him.”  Will remembers the awkward conversation and pity invite to dinner. 

 

“He was doing house calls?”  Lass finds that very interesting he is surely not the kind of Doctor who would usually do house calls.

 

“For Margot yes, he has a soft spot for her, she has that effect on people.”  Will says with genuine affection.

 

“Did he know you would be there?”  Lass wonders if Will was the reason and perhaps the bumping into was more contrived than Will realises.

 

Will looks at Lass genuinely wondering where she is going with this. “I don’t think so, unless Alana mentioned it to him.”

 

“He speaks to Alana.”  

 

“Yes I believe so she is Margot’s emergency contact and he lives close to her.”

 

“He does?”

 

“Yes they realised it after they met at the hospital.  I think that is partly why he checked on Margot it was not far for him and he felt sorry for I suspect.”  Will had not really put much thought into it, he seemed like a nice enough man and Margot was the sort who pulled you into her orbit and made you care.

 

“Interesting.  What did he say to you when you bumped into him?”

 

Will has no idea why this was so interesting  to Lass. “I am not sure I cannot remember exactly it was a week ago now, he invited me for dinner with Alana and Margot but I got the feeling that was more about pity than anything else.  I asked him if he had received the books I had sent and he said he had.”

 

Lass’ ear perks up at that “you sent him books?”

 

“Yes I wanted to thank him for everything he has done for Margot and he asked for some signed books which he could give to the nurses to keep in their favor.  I asked Alana to organise it.” 

 

“When was this?”

 

“A few weeks ago just before Margot was released.”

 

“He asked you to dinner?”

 

“Yes with Alana and Margot but I got the feeling it was more out pity or obligation.  I was not planning on taking him up on it.”

 

“Did he give you a day for the dinner?”

 

“No it was more a general invitation as I said I doubt he was sincere.”

 

“I think you should go.”  Lass says.

 

“Detective what is this about?”

 

Lass looks at Will and thinks about how much to tell him.  She knows he is hiding something from her she can smell it.  She always trusts her instincts and she knows she can only trust Will Graham so much.  “I think he may have taken an interest in you.”

 

Will laughs at the complete ridiculousness of that statement.  “In me? I doubt it! Margot maybe but not me. He doesnt read my books he only asked for them because he knows the nurses do.”

 

“I think he does read your books Mr Graham, I think he has read them before he met you.”

 

Will’s mind is slow but it is starting to piece things together “you cannot possibly think that Hannibal Lecter is this guy that kills people like the victims in my books?”

 

“He fits the profile.  He is a surgeon, highly experienced and intelligent.”

 

“Surely all the Surgeon’s in Baltimore fit the profile.”

 

“Yes, many do and we have been looking into all of them.”

 

“But you have a feeling about Lecter.”  Will remembers hunches, how they would consume you.

 

“Yes.”  Lass does, she has a definite feeling about Lecter and one about Will Graham too.

 

Will cannot see it at all. “He is harmless I am sure of it.”

 

Lass smiles and says lightly “then go to dinner with him and tell me about it afterwards.”

 

“Report back?  What would I even be looking for?”  Will is so shocked by this turn of events he thinks about Lecter and just cannot see it.

 

“You used to be a PI.  Follow your instincts.”

 

Will laughs again “Detective this is madness.”

 

“If I am wrong then it doesn’t matter does it?  All I am asking is for you to go and have dinner.”

 

Will smirks “that would require me to be sociable”

 

Lass smiles she knows he rarely leaves the house, she knows what she is asking.  “I will level with you Mr Graham this is not really a request.”

 

Will takes another long drag of his cigarette and looks at Lass with a serious expression “what will happen if I refuse?”

 

Lass thinks that if he does refuse she will have an army of police down here before he can even finish that cigarette and search his apartment and she will find what he is hiding.  “Mr Graham I do not want things to become difficult between us, surely you can find it in you to help the police with an ongoing investigation especially one that pertains to you personally.  Unless there is something you are not telling me?”

 

Will knows she has seen through him and it makes him shiver and he has to stop his eyes from sliding over to the desk drawer.  “Of course not Detective I would be happy to help.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being so patient with me! I am now focusing on this fic and plan to have it finished over the next month. Next chapter will be with you soon.
> 
> Comments are the way Lass knows she has Will over a barrel and kudos is the way Will blows out smoke from his cigarette...


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He makes his way at a leisurely pace not wanting to seem overly keen. He does take a deep breath before opening the door despite himself. Will Graham is indeed stood in his doorway, shuffling awkwardly, he looks cold. 
> 
> “Come in please.” Hannibal moves so that Will can walk in closing the door behind him. “Let me take your coat and hat.”
> 
> “Thanks.” Will says and suddenly remembers he is holding a bottle of wine which he holds out to Hannibal “for you, I heard it was customary to bring something.”
> 
> “You did not have to, how kind.” Hannibal takes the bottle noting the vintage and is somewhat impressed. He places the bottle down on the side table and takes Will’s coat and hat from him hanging them up. “I am very glad you could make it. Alana and Margot are already here.”
> 
> Hannibal picks up the bottle of wine and gestures for Will to go through. “Am I late? My apologies I have never been very good at timekeeping.” Will looks at Hannibal in his immaculate suit and feels more dishevelled than ever in his faded brown suit which he has not worn since his PI days he was not even sure he still owned it. 
> 
> “Not at all, you are perfectly on time.” Hannibal replies and Will frowns.

Hannibal is excited.  A strange feeling. An unusual sensation.  Even when he kills he would never describe himself as excited.  He has a feeling of anticipation before a kill, yes, but excitement is new ground.  This evening Will, Alana and Margot are coming to his house for dinner. He has spent the entire day preparing for this event.  He has cleared his schedule, he is not on call and has asked Bedelia to send any emergencies regarding his patients to another surgeon -  he is not to be disturbed. 

 

Currently he is decanting the Chateau Mouton Rothschild he has chosen to perfectly compliment the beef Richelieu with Madeira Sauce he has made from Mason Verger’s.  Smiling to himself in satisfaction. He is dressed in a navy blue double breasted pinstripe suit with matching waistcoat, deep red pocket square and paisley red tie. A crisp white shirt.  

 

The dining room table is decorated with an assortment of ivy and winter white flowers, he thought about using some antlers but decided that perhaps it would be upsetting for Margot and a little too obvious a signal for Will.  Once he has finished with the wine he places it on the sideboard and lights the two long tapers on the table. Standing back he smiles at his work, satisfied. He looks at his watch and then exactly on time the doorbell rings. 

 

Opening the door he is confronted with Margot and Alana, both look wonderful stood there arm in arm.  Margot looks almost glowing and this pleases Hannibal greatly. They come in and he takes their coats, hats, scarves and gloves.  He takes them through to his lounge where he pours them both a glass of Winston Churchill Vintage Champagne.

 

Margot takes the glass with a smile “is this medicinal Doctor?”

 

“Doctor’s orders”  Hannibal replies with an easy smile.

 

“Wonderful!”  Margot laughs and takes a sip.

 

“I am so glad you could both make it this evening.” Hannibal says smoothly.

 

“Thank you for inviting us.”  Alana says eagerly. “I have heard many wonderful things about your cooking I feel honoured that we are to be experiencing it.”

 

Hannibal nods in an attempt at modesty “well that is very flattering I hope I can live up to expectations.”  Of course he knows he can. 

 

“Will said he was coming didn’t he?”  Margot asks realising that Will is, as always, late and she hopes he has not forgotten or passed out in his chair.

 

“Yes, he did, I am sure he will be here shortly, he does after all have further to come.”  Hannibal offers and both women nod in agreement. “You are looking well Margot. It is good to see you on your feet once more.”

“Yes I feel like I am getting back to my old self.”  Margot says and she means it. Alana and her have been on daily walks and she finally feels like she is healing.  Of course there is still a lot she needs to figure out with the death of her brother and her now being in charge of Verger farms.  As Alana says she just needs to take one day at a time for now.

 

“I am glad to hear it.”  Hannibal means it he is genuinely fond of Margot and it was his pleasure to rid the world of her brother.

 

“This is a beautiful home you have.”  Alana says looking around.

 

“Especially for a bachelor?”  Hannibal jokes and Alana blushes.

 

“You know I did not mean it like that!”  Alana counters.

 

“I know I am only teasing.”  He is used to people questioning his bachelor status, usually the easy cover of a busy life of a surgeon is explanation enough.  The truth however has always been that he has never met anyone who has piqued his interest, not until Will. “I have always taken great care regarding my living spaces I think it is important to have somewhere that is just yours.”

 

“I do not think I have ever had that.”  Margot says and thinks of the mansion where she has lived her whole life, rooms decorated by others, spaces always taken up by staff or brother, even her room never felt fully safe.  The idea that this is can change is beginning to grow at the back of her mind filling her with fear and excitement. 

 

“Perhaps now you can.”  Alana says and gently touches her arm. 

 

The doorbell rings and Hannibal smiles “that must be Mr Graham.”  

 

Hannibal makes his way to the door having left Margot and Alana in his lounge.  He makes his way at a leisurely pace not wanting to seem overly keen. He does take a deep breath before opening the door despite himself.  Will Graham is indeed stood in his doorway, shuffling awkwardly, he looks cold. 

 

“Come in please.”  Hannibal moves so that Will can walk in closing the door behind him. “Let me take your coat and hat.”

 

“Thanks.”  Will says and suddenly remembers he is holding a bottle of wine which he holds out to Hannibal “for you, I heard it was customary to bring something.”

 

“You did not have to, how kind.”  Hannibal takes the bottle noting the vintage and is somewhat impressed.  He places the bottle down on the side table and takes Will’s coat and hat from him hanging them up.  “I am very glad you could make it. Alana and Margot are already here.”

 

Hannibal picks up the bottle of wine and gestures for Will to go through.  “Am I late? My apologies I have never been very good at timekeeping.” Will looks at Hannibal in his immaculate suit and feels more dishevelled than ever in his faded brown suit which he has not worn since his PI days he was not even sure he still owned it.  

 

“Not at all, you are perfectly on time.”  Hannibal replies and Will frowns.

 

Hannibal deposits the bottle of wine in the kitchen before they make their way to the lounge to join Alana and Margot.  Immediately Will is hugged by Margot as Hannibal pours him a drink, he can see that Will is fidgeting and clearly wanting to smoke.  

 

“You may smoke if you like Will.  May I call you Will?” Hannibal says as he hands Will a glass of champagne which is gratefully received.

 

“Thank you.”  Will says gulping the champagne he is glad that Margot is close by she always calms him. “Sorry I am very rarely sociable.”  Will balances a cigarette between his mouth and manages to light it one handed while still holding the glass of champagne which makes Hannibal smile.

 

Will starts to relax as the alcohol and nicotine make their way through his system.   He is glad that Alana and Margot are so good at this and that Hannibal seems to be in his element, which means he does not need to do much talking.  Hannibal and Margot seem to have an easy understanding with each other, conversing easily about wine and food - worlds that Will knows very little about.  Alana is just happy to be in their company and her eyes light up when she tastes the food and Will can see she will be telling the story of this evening to anyone who will listen.

 

For his part he watches Hannibal as much as he can.  He thinks about Lass’ theory and he thinks about the messages he has received from the killer, trying to reconcile this to Hannibal.  He is clearly an accomplished man, well-read beyond his medical field, an extraordinarily talented chef and well-versed in all areas of art and music.  He is a renaissance man. Perhaps the only odd thing is that he remains a bachelor but Will realises this could be for a number of reasons. He works long hours as a surgeon, perhaps he has had no time for relationships.  Perhaps he has affairs, perhaps he is happy alone. 

 

Before desert Margot tires and so Alana decides they should leave.  Will feels obligated to stay but is also genuinely lured by the offer of chocolate.  They both see the two women out and then Will follows Hannibal to his kitchen watching as he plates up what looks likes the most decadent dessert he has ever seen.

 

“That looks amazing.” 

 

“Thank you.”  Hannibal says and then after a pause “do you mind me asking what made you change your mind about coming this evening?  When I asked you before you seemed, shall we say, reluctant.”

 

Will laughs “I am not one to be described as a social butterfly!”

 

“I would never presume.”  Hannibal knows that Will being here is unusual and he has wondered at the reasons, he assumes and hopes it was Margot and not Detective Lass that changed his mind.

 

Will smiles “it was Margot and Alana they both wanted me to come, Margot can persuade me to do most things when she puts her mind to it.”

 

Hannibal laughs “yes I am starting to see that about her.  I am glad that she could convince you I have to say I have enjoyed your company.”

 

Will looks surprised at that “I admit I enjoyed tonight more than I thought I would.”  It does feel good to be out of the apartment, to be away from his ghost, to not be staring at those letters.   _ Did you write them?  _ Will thinks as he takes the proffered desert from Hannibal and follows him through to the dining room.

 

“I did not want to ask in front of Margot”  Hannibal says as he pours Will a glass of red wine. “Have you heard any more about the case?  The murder of that poor girl?”

 

Will looks at Hannibal’s smooth expression as he pours wine into his own glass and then takes a seat,  _ not a crack,  _ he thinks.  “No, I do not think there has been any leads as far as I know.”

 

“Are you concerned at all that this person could come after you?”  Hannibal asks this as he sips his wine holding the glass elegantly by the stem, Will is momentarily distracted by his fingers.

 

“No,”  the image of Mason Verger flashes before his eyes briefly and he takes a large sip of wine to rid himself of it.  “I know the police are concerned I have a car outside of my apartment.” 

 

_ I know,  _ Hannibal thinks he walked straight pass them when he dropped of the last letter, they were both asleep.  “That does indeed mean they are concerned.”

 

“Or suspicious.”  Will says only half joking after all he is only here at Lass’ behest.  He has no idea what he is going to tell her, Hannibal has given nothing away.

 

Hannibal smiles at that “why would you think that?”

 

“I suppose they could think I am behind it as a way to boost sales or something or that I have lost my mind.”  Will takes a sip of the red wine it is like drinking a rich tapestry. “Which at this point is not outside of the realms of possibility.”

 

Hannibal looks sympathetic “I heard about your last case.” 

 

“You did?”  Will wonders at that, it is not common knowledge and he cannot imagine Margot or Alana divulging that information.  “May I ask how?”

 

“One of my colleagues performed the autopsy on the Hobbs girl and he remembered you being treated at the hospital.  A messy business to be sure.” This is true but it is not how Hannibal found out about Will.

 

“Oh.”   _ He is lying,  _ Will thinks and that in itself is interesting.  Perhaps he was lying when he said he said he had not read Will’s books, that old feeling in his gut that he used to get as a PI is surfacing and suddenly the wine and chocolate taste like dust in his mouth.

 

“I apologise for bringing it up.”  Hannibal lies smoothly but he does not miss the thought that he sees cross Will’s minds.

 

Will waves a hand in dismissal “it is not a problem.  I try not to think about it.”

 

“I understand.”  Hannibal says his voice as even as he can make it.   “I have lost patients and I find it hard to think about them, I am haunted by all the ways I could saved them.  There are times I feel like quitting being a surgeon completely.” 

 

Will looks at Hannibal intrigued “really?  What would you do? Become a chef?”

 

Hannibal smiles and takes another sip of wine “actually I have toyed with psychiatry, the human mind is something of a source of fascination for me. “  _ Especially yours,  _ Hannibal thinks.

 

“There cannot be many successful surgeons who would even entertain the idea of leaving the field.”  Will is intrigued now, he feels a little lured in but ignores the feeling.

 

“Indeed not any that I know of.  It is a pipe dream though I suppose, as you have say not many leave the profession.”  Hannibal takes a bite of the chocolate desert letting it melt slowly on his tongue before swallowing it. “What about you?  Are you working on anything new?”

 

Will laughs “no.  I do not know if Margot or Alana mentioned it but I have killed off Jack so I find myself at sea.”

 

“Yes Alana did mention that.  Bold decision.” Hannibal was sad to hear it but is sure that a mind such as Will Graham’s will come up with something wonderful especially as Hannibal plans to inspire him.

 

“Not sure bold is the right word.”  Will says he already feels regret about it, his muse has been quiet since.

 

Hannibal smiles “change is good surely?”

 

“I suppose it can be.”  Will laughs “are you analysing me now Doctor?  Just how much research have you done into the field of psychiatry?” 

 

Hannibal laughs lightly. “Not enough to charge if that’s what worries you!  We are just having a conversation.” 

 

Will looks at Hannibal trying to read him, he can usually see and more importantly feel what people are thinking but with Hannibal he just feels a strange cold. “It does not worry me.  Should it?” 

 

“As I said we are just having a conversation.”  As Hannibal says this he sees something flicker across Will’s face and he wonders at it  _ aren’t we?  _ He thinks.

  
  


****

 

When Will finally arrives home, after stumbling his way across town, he finds Lass waiting outside his door.  She is tapping her foot impatiently as he fumbles with the keys to get the door open. “You had a good time then.”  Lass bites out as she grabs the keys from Will and opens the door herself.

 

They go inside and Will makes straight for the bottle of bourbon and glass on the small table by his chair.  Lass closes the door and quickly makes her way to Will taking the bottle and glass from him pointedly. “You sit I will make some coffee and then we can talk.”

 

Will thinks about objecting but decides against it and instead does as he is told and sits down lighting a cigarette as he listens to Lass turn on lights, making his eyes hurt, and then make coffee.

 

Lass gives him the coffee and the moves the desk chair again to sit closer to Will.  She watches him drink coffee and smoke for while until his eyes seem less glassy. “What happened?”  

 

Will puts out his cigarette, downs the last of his coffee, and then light another one.  “We had dinner.” 

 

Lass rolls her eyes and leans in closer to take in a deep breath of the smoke, she has been trying to stop but it’s killing her.   “Yes, and?”

 

“Nothing, the conversation was as expected.”  Will looks around the apartment to see if he can see Abigail but she is seemingly absent.  “He is a very good cook, Alana and Margot were there they left before desert because Margot was tired.”

 

Lass’ eyes widen at that. “You were alone?”

 

Will sighs and then takes a long drag of his cigarette. “For a short time, yes, we had desert, we talked and then I left.”

 

“What did you talk about?”  Lass leans in even closer.

 

Will sighs again “nothing, seriously Detective you are way off base with this.  He is a gentlemen, he enjoys cooking, the arts and music. He lives alone, he works long hours and that’s it.”

 

Lass knows Will is hiding something and she knows that Hannibal is her man, she knows these things in her bones. “He didn’t ask you about your work?”

 

Will can see the fire and determination in Lass’ eyes and wonders how he is ever going to get out of this situation.  “He asked what I was working on but so does every one. He gave nothing away, there was nothing that would make me think he is the man you are looking for.”

 

“Are you sure?”  Lass looks at Will and can sense he is not being honest with her,  “anything, even just the smallest thing that felt a little off.”

 

Will sighs and thinks about how he knew about his last case, that doesn’t mean anything necessarily, but then he thinks of what he is already hiding in his desk drawer and decides to throw her a bone.   At least if she focuses on Hannibal she will be off his back. “He knew about my last case. He said he knew because he knew the colleague who performed the autopsy on Abigail but I felt like he was lying.”

 

Lass narrows her eyes “what makes you think that?”

 

“I don’t know!”  Will says and just wishes she would leave already.  “As you say my old instinct. It was odd that he knew about it and I do not think Alana or Margot would have told him.  I think he found out some other way. That could just mean he is a gossip, it’s hardly proof he is obsessed with me. He dropped it as soon as I asked him to.”

 

Lass thinks about this and decides that it is strange and that it could mean something. “You should see him again.”

 

Will rolls his eyes “Detective he is not the sort of person I can just arrange to see again, he is a very successful surgeon and a regular on the Baltimore social circle.  I am sure I am just a passing fancy to him and now he has spent time with me it has been satisfied. It’s not like I can invite him over here for dinner!” Will gestures to the mess he lives in and tries to imagine Hannibal’s face if he saw his apartment.

 

Lass smiles puts her coffee cup down and stands up.  “I am sure you will think of something.” She says letting herself out as Will reaches for the bourbon.

 

_ What if she is right?  _

 

Will realises that Abigail has appeared and is sitting in the desk chair.  “I have no idea Abigail.” He says to his ghost before drinking the large measure of bourbon, he has poured, in one “I have no idea.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are the bottle of wine Will gives Hannibal, comments are the giddy fanboy feeling Hannibal has at the sight of Will in his house....


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She sips the too strong coffee she is cradling in her hands it tastes old but she is beyond caring. It’s late and most of the Officers have gone home, there is a quiet peace to the place but not in her mind, in her mind there is a buzzing which just will not calm. She hears her door open and turns to see Bev smiling holding a bottle of whiskey two mugs. Lass laughs as Bev comes in and closes the door, locking it behind her, she sits on the couch where she is joined by Lass. Bev pours them both a shot in the mugs, Lass picks one up and they clink them together both taking a sip.
> 
>  
> 
> “How’s it going?” Bev asks.
> 
>  
> 
> Lass grimaces “well I know its Lecter, I know it deep in my bones and I know Will Graham knows more than he is saying. My whole case is basically in that alcoholic chain-smoker’s hands so I am doomed.”
> 
>  
> 
> Bev laughs “is he that bad?” Lass just nods. “They do say to never meet your heroes.”

Lass is staring at the murder board again.  She is thinking about Doctor Hannibal Lecter.  She is thinking about Will Graham. Seeing him last night made her frustrated and she cannot believe that her case is now entrusted to this mess of a man who drinks and smokes too much.  He is hiding something though she knows he is, they both are. The more she thinks on it the more she knows she is right, it has to be him and she has to catch him. She knows Will Graham is the key to all of this and it terrifies her because she knows she cannot trust him.

 

She sips the too strong coffee she is cradling in her hands it tastes old but she is beyond caring.  It’s late and most of the Officers have gone home, there is a quiet peace to the place but not in her mind, in her mind there is a buzzing which just will not calm.  She hears her door open and turns to see Bev smiling holding a bottle of whiskey two mugs. Lass laughs as Bev comes in and closes the door, locking it behind her, she sits on the couch where she is joined by Lass.  Bev pours them both a shot in the mugs, Lass picks one up and they clink them together both taking a sip.

 

“How’s it going?”  Bev asks.

 

Lass grimaces “well I know its Lecter, I know it deep in my bones and I know Will Graham knows more than he is saying.  My whole case is basically in that alcoholic chain-smoker’s hands so I am doomed.”

 

Bev laughs “is he that bad?”  Lass just nods. “They do say to never meet your heroes.”

 

“In this case that is definitely true, he has gotten worse since he came here.”  Lass thinks about the state of Will after Lecter’s dinner the other night and frowns again taking another sip of the whiskey.  “Where did you get this?” Lass asks referring to the whiskey which actually does not taste too bad.

 

Bev smiled “Zeller.  Figured he owed us one.”  

 

Lass nods and thinks of the leaked photos “yes, indeed he does.”

 

“There must be something other than Will that you can use, some angle.”  Bev looks at the board. “What about the organs, what is he doing with them?”

 

Lass shrugs her shoulders and thinks of jars filled with formaldehyde, a room filled with rows of rows of macabre trophies.  Somehow that doesn’t seem to fit with Lecter.  _ What is he doing with them? _ Lass’ brain begins to unravel a path that she had not considered she thinks about Lecter’s life.  He is known in the social scene of Baltimore, his huge house, parties, dinner parties. She thinks about the fact that he asked Will to dinner.  She shudders. “He’s eating them.”

 

Bev turns her head to look at Lass “he’s what?”

Lass turns to meet Bev’s incredulous gaze “think about it.  He is known for his dinner parties, lavish affairs, he is known as a great cook.  It’s the perfect way to dispose of the evidence and get one up on the social scene, he feeds his victims to his guests.”

 

“Miriam, that’s insane.”  Bev says.

 

“Why remove them surgically?  Unless he was going to use them.  If they were just trophies why take so much care?”  

 

Bev opens her mouth to speak and then closes it - she has nothing.  She thinks about it and shudders. “You are terrifying, you know that.”  Lass looks a little crestfallen at that. Bev smiles at her and sits forward putting her mug on the table she reaches up and gently tucks a stray hair from Lass behind her ear before removing her hand.  “Not to me, I mean the way your mind works, you are a genius.”

 

“I can’t prove any of this though.”  Lass says her voice soft as she continues to look at Bev unable to tear her gaze away.

 

“You will, we will, I’ll help you anyway I can.  You know that.” Bev smiles, they are still very close and Bev’s eyes dip to Lass’ lips curved into a smile.  Slowly Bev reaches up again and tucks the hair hair behind Lass’ ear and then even slower closes the distance between them and kisses her softly on the lips.  Lass sighs and relaxes into the kiss. They part and Bev smiles “I have wanted to do that for some time.”

 

Lass laughs “me too.”

 

Bev smiles and kisses Lass again they part and Bev stands pulling Lass up with her “you need rest, we will solve this, together but first you need sleep.”

 

Lass laughs “I cannot remember the last time I slept.”

 

“I know, so come home with me, stay the night and I will make sure you sleep.”  Bev takes Lass’ hand and then kisses her again. 

 

“Promise?”  Lass laughs.

 

“Promise.”  

***

 

Lass sleeps for a few hours with the comforting weight of Bev next to her but then she is woken suddenly with a feeling she cannot shake.  She gets up and goes to stand by the window it has started snowing again and there is a strange orange hue to the light from the streetlamps.  Staring out at the snow falling she cannot shake the feeling that she needs to check on the car watching Will Graham. She looks over at Bev sleeping soundly in her bed and wishes she could just slip back in but she knows she can’t.  This feeling, this need will just not leave her now. She gets dressed quickly and quietly leaving a note for Bev she leaves the apartment. 

 

She drives to Will’s, the roads are quiet it’s late or early depending on which side of the day you are on, only a few people around.  The city is now sleeping. She pulls into Will’s road and sees the car parked where it should be. There are two people sat in it. She sighs in relief.  Then she gets a strange feeling as she notices that they are very still.  _ If they are asleep I will kill them.  _  Lass can feel the anger rising in her, she gets out of her car and slams the door.  The two figures do not move. Walking over she taps on the window. Nothing. She hits the roof of the car and at that moment the passenger door opens a crack.  Then she feels it, the same feeling she always feel in his wake. With her gloved hand she pushes the door fully open from the top corner, takes a deep breath and crouches down and looks inside.

 

_ Shit. _

 

***

 

Will is passed out in his chair.  Abigail cannot remember the last time he made it to his bed.  He doesn’t even listen to music anymore he just sits in the dark.  She sighs and wonders if he is just going to not wake up one day and then maybe they can haunt this apartment together.  Or maybe then she will finally be free of him, they will be free of each other. She isn’t really sure how any of this works.  

 

It’s late or early depending on which side of the day you are on when she sees it.  Another letter slipped under the door. Will is snoring and doesn’t even stir. Abigail goes over to it and looks at it.  If she could shiver she would. 

 

***

The loud banging is what wakes Will with a start.  It’s pitch black in his apartment and he cannot see a thing when he opens his eyes.  The banging and shouting of his name continue. 

 

_ Get up.  It’s her and you have another letter. _ __   
  


Abigail’s voice is so close to his ear if it was possible he would feel her breath on his ear instead it’s just cold.  He shivers and then jumps again when the banging starts up again.

 

_ Get up.  Turn on the light. _

 

Finally Will comes to completely and manages to stumble to the lamp and turn it on he can see Abigail is standing with her arms crossed by the door looking down at the letter on the floor.  The banging is still happening even more insistent now. He rubs his eyes and then walks towards the door he picks up the envelope and stuff it in his pocket before he opens the door to a very angry Lass.  She barges her way through him walks straight over to his phone on the desk she picks it up and dials a number. He looks at her confused. “You stay there, do not move.” She says her voice is laced with so much anger it instantly sobers him up and if that hadn’t the next words out of her mouth as she reaches who she needs to would.

 

“Its Detective Lass.  I need a full team to Will Graham’s place immediately.  Get me Price, Zeller and Katz. Two Officers down.” She slams the phone down and stalks over to Will she winces when she smells the bourbon on his breath. “Where have you been this evening?”

 

Will looks at her “here.”

 

“All night?”  Lass snaps eyes not blinking.

 

Will nods. “All day and night.”

 

“Any visitors?”  Lass says this in a tone that makes Will feel something cold slide down his spine.

 

“No.”  No-one visits him here, only Margot and she is otherwise engaged.  Unless ghosts count but they live here. He looks at Lass and knows that what she means by down, they are not getting back up again.  “The Officers outside, are they..?

 

Lass fixes him with a stare that could kill a man he is sure. “Dead.  Yes. Murdered.”

 

“Shit.”   _ It was him, he was here,  _ Will thinks and wants to throw up.

 

“My thoughts exactly.”  Lass looks at Will who has gone white as a sheet.

 

Will thinks about it for a second and then realises he has no choice.  He takes the letter from his pocket and holds it out to Lass. She looks down at it and then up at Will.  “It’s not the first one. There are more, in the desk drawer.” 

 

“This is what you were hiding.”  Lass’ voice is monotone and it scares Will.

 

“Yes.”  It doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would telling her, he still feels buried underneath the words those letter contain.

 

Lass doesn’t feel as satisfied at being proved right as she would like, not with two dead Officer’s sat outside. “Anything else?”

 

Will shakes his head. “No just this.”

 

Lass doesn’t speak she takes the letter and then goes to the desk drawer and takes the rest of them out, laying them out on the desk.  She reads the letters and looks at the drawings and photos. It makes her blood run cold. “You responded.” She says flatly.

 

“Once.”  Will says and he to this day he will not admit to himself why.

 

Lass looks up at him. “What did you say?”

 

“I told him to leave me alone.”  Will knew that even though he had said that in his reply the very act of replying invited more.  He had invited this and now he had no idea how to stop it.

 

Lass looks back down at the letters and grimaces. “He obviously didn’t.”

 

“No.”  _ He never will. _

 

“I can have you arrested for this you know?  For hiding evidence.” She won’t though he is too useful to her.

 

“I know, but you won’t.”  Lass looks up questioningly “you can use me.  Use me to catch him. Let me make up for this.”

 

“This one”  Lass says “the one that isn’t opened when did it come.”

 

Will takes a deep breath as he realises the implication of his answer. “Sometime tonight it wasn’t there before I passed out and it was there when your banging woke me up.”

 

“What time did you pass out?”  Lass has gone monotone again and Will still feels like he wants to throw up.

 

He runs a hand through his hair as he tries to think.  “Not sure, probably around midnight.”

 

Lass checks her watch it’s three now.  She looks down at the envelope and hands it back to Will “open it.”

 

Will takes it back from her and stares at it for a few moments before retreating to his chair, he lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag before balancing it on the ashtray he opens the letter.  

 

“Read it to me.”  Lass says as she begins to pace up and down the room.  Will frowns as he can see that Abigail is her shadow.

 

“Consider this a gift.”  Will reads. “A muse is something that only grows when allowed to do so unwatched and away from judgement.”  

 

Lass stops pacing and turns to face Will “that’s it.”  Will nods. “Did you tell him?”

 

“Who? What?”  Will is still staring at the words.  

 

“Lecter!”  Lass clicks her fingers at Will who finally looks up and pays attention.  “Did you tell him about the officers we had watching you.”

 

Will looks away and whispers “yes” he drops the paper to the floor.  “It’s him you are right, it’s him.” Will can see it now, the perfect mask, the carefully chosen words, the contrived meeting, the signed books, Mason, Margot it all makes perfect sense and he wants to throw up.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos are the way Lass bangs the door in righteous fury and comments are Abigail's eye rolls.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is sat in an interrogation room with a cup of stale coffee wondering what on earth has happened in his life to have ended up here. He thinks about Hannibal and part of him just cannot see it and another part of him knows - he felt it the moment he met him. Trying not to imagine Hannibal reading his books, devouring his words, making them come alive. The thought is making his stomach feel prickly and he is not sure all of it is fear, actually he is pretty sure a large part of it is flattery. A man like Hannibal seeing through Will, seeing to the core of him is both utterly terrifying and yet so intoxicating. 
> 
>  
> 
> He needs to stop thinking about it. He needs to get a hold of himself, he needs to stop dwelling on his emotions and figure out how he is going to get himself out of this situation. He takes another sip of his coffee just as Lass comes in and sits down opposite him. She looks like how he feels.

“Nothing.”  Lass looks at Bev and cannot hide her frustration.  

 

“I’m sorry but yeah we have nothing.”  Bev repeats. Jimmy and Brian look at each other starting to feel as if they aren’t even in the room, something is going on between Bev and Lass and they are not sure what it is.  

 

“We looked at everything, twice.”  Brian offers and Lass grimaces.

 

“How do we have nothing?  Two Officers have their necks snapped while sat in a car outside Will Graham’s apartment and we have nothing.”  Lass feels like she is falling deeper and deeper into a hole she is never going to climb out of. Bev is looking at her with that concerned look which is just infuriating Lass more, she knows it shouldn’t, she knows she should apologise for running out on Bev but she just cannot seem to find the words.  

 

“He is good at covering his tracks.”  Jimmy says quietly feeling as if Lass might bite his head off at any moment.

 

Lass looks at him with a withering stare “yeah I get that.”

 

“It’s not our fault Lass.”  Bev says now she just looks pissed and Miriam feels bad.

 

“I know, i’m sorry it’s just frustrating.”  Lass says her voice a bit softer.

 

“What about Will Graham?” Brian asks.  

 

Lass sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, she can feel a headache coming on, too much coffee and not enough sleep she suspects.  “I have brought him in and I will question him again but it’s not him.”

 

“How do you know that?”  Brian asks annoyed now, he has his suspicions about this recluse writer. “I mean they were outside of his apartment how do you know he is got fed up of them watching him.  There were no reports of anyone dropping off letters in the middle of the night like he claims. Maybe he sent them to himself.”

 

Lass had thought that but she trusts her instincts and even though Will is at the heart of all this he is not responsible for the murders she is sure of it.  He is just not capable. “It’s not him, I know it. Plus he is barely functioning he drinks too much and doesn’t eat he is wreck. No way he has the strength to commit these murders and he never leaves his house.”

 

“Maybe that's what he wants us to think.”  Brian offers.

 

“I am interviewing him again but our focus should be on Lecter.”  Lass says. “I will be back after I have spoken to Mr Graham. Humour me and go through everything again especially the letters.”

 

Jimmy sighs and Bev shoots him a warning look. “No problem boss.”  Bev says and Lass gives her a half smile before leaving to go and speak to Will.

 

***

 

Will is sat in an interrogation room with a cup of stale coffee wondering what on earth has happened in his life to have ended up here.  He thinks about Hannibal and part of him just cannot see it and another part of him knows - he felt it the moment he met him. Trying not to imagine Hannibal reading his books, devouring his words, making them come alive.  The thought is making his stomach feel prickly and he is not sure all of it is fear, actually he is pretty sure a large part of it is flattery. A man like Hannibal seeing through Will, seeing to the core of him is both utterly terrifying and yet so intoxicating.  

 

He needs to stop thinking about it.  He needs to get a hold of himself, he needs to stop dwelling on his emotions and figure out how he is going to get himself out of this situation.   He takes another sip of his coffee just as Lass comes in and sits down opposite him. She looks like how he feels. 

 

“You didn’t see anything.”  Lass says even her voice sounds tired.

 

Will shakes his head “no, I was asleep.”

 

“You didn’t see anyone deliver these letter to you either?”  Lass asks again.

 

“No I woke up and they were there.”  

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about them?”  Lass’ voice is soft as if she does not want to spook him.

 

“I don’t know.”  He does though it was because to show Lass would have made it real, it would have landed him here in this room having this conversation which he did not want to do.  

 

Lass looks at him as he lights another cigarette his hands shaking, skin pale and sickly, she frowns.  “Yes you do. Stop bullshitting.”

 

Will smiles at that he should know by now that Lass is not going to let him get away with half truths and lies.  He takes a drag of his cigarette and thinks to himself that he needs to get it together and fast. “I didn’t want to.”

 

“Why?”  

 

Will frowns and looks straight at Lass “it felt private.”  It felt intimate, he felt understood, flattered and alive for the first time in years.

 

“You knew it was from a killer, someone I was trying to catch.”  Lass does not understand Will Graham and she is starting to not want to.

 

“I did.  I cannot explain it I just didn’t want to reveal it.”  He  _ can _ explain it though but if he does Lass will arrest him right alongside Hannibal.  

 

“You are now willing to help me?  Help me get him.” Lass is still terrified that her case is now in Will Graham’s hands, his very shaky hands.

 

Will knows that even though she has phrased this as a question it isn’t.  He nods slowly and takes another drag of his cigarette. “Of course. I don’t know how.  I cannot imagine he will tell me anything.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“He is very intelligent, Detective he will not be easy to catch.”  

 

“He can be caught though.”  Lass says keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Will, she can see he knows, he knows how to catch Hannibal she just has to be careful as she is still not entirely sure she can trust Mr Graham or what his actual motivations might be.

 

Will finishes his cigarette and puts it out on the metal ashtray on the table.  “Did you know I am good fisherman Detective? I know how to catch a fish.”

 

Lass leans back in the chair, crosses her arms and smiles.  “Really?”

 

“It is all about the bait.”

 

Lass nods “yes, indeed it is Mr Graham, indeed it is.” 

 

Will is more than a little aware that Detective Lass is looking at him like he is worm on a hook right now and he is not sure he feels like anything different.

 

***

 

Hannibal is pleased.  Killing those two Officers was a risk but one worth taking.  He is aware that Lass is probably on to him and he needs to do something about that.  Yet he is not ready to make his move directly against her yet, he needs to see what Will is going to do.  He wonders if Will has told Lass about the letters yet, he would be stupid not to with two dead policeman outside his house.  He sips the montrachet he is drinking and sighs.  _ Will. _ He thinks.

 

Placing the glass down on the side table Hannibal smiles, stands up and makes his way to the phone on his desk.  He dials Will’s number which he got from Alana before he invited Will for dinner the last time. The phone rings for a long time which he expected.  As he listens to the phone ring he imagines Will in his armchair smoking staring at the phone as it rings deciding whether to answer. Eventually he picks up, his voice is rough and Hannibal can hear he is smoking.

 

“Hello.”  

 

“Will it’s Hannibal.”  

 

There is a pause as he listens to Will taking a deep drag of his cigarette.  Hannibal imagines Will’s fingers, slightly stained from nicotine and the smell of his breath laced with bourbon.  “Is Margot alright?”

 

“Yes, I believe she is in perfect hands with Miss Bloom.”  

 

“Good.  Why are you calling?”  

 

Hannibal smirks, in anyone else this rudeness would prove fatal but as always he forgives it in Will.  “I wanted to know if you would come over for dinner again.”

 

There is another pause and what sounds like a drink being poured, drunk and then another inhale of a cigarette.  “Really?”

 

“Yes I very much enjoyed your company.”   

 

Another long pause, so long he wonders if Will is still on the line and is about to enquire as such when he answers.

 

“Sure, why not.”  

 

“Wonderful, tomorrow evening, seven o’clock?”

 

“See you then.”    Will puts the phone down and drinks the rest of his bourbon in one.  

 

***

 

Lass is sat in her office with her feet on her desk staring at the phone willing it to ring.  She is smoking again even though she knows Bev will smell it on her and tell her off. After letting Will Graham go she had come up to her office and begun chain smoking.  She can feel the frustration inside her coiling and coiling, tighter and tighter. 

 

There is a knock on her door and she frowns putting out the cigarette.  “Yes.” 

 

“It’s me.”  The voice which belongs to Katz says. 

 

“Door is open.”  Lass says but doesn’t move from the desk as Bev walks in, closes the door and locks it behind her.

 

Bev walks to Lass’s side of the desk and perches just by her feet.  “I know you are frustrated and I don’t mind you taking it out on me, well I do but I can deal with it because it’s you.”  Lass smiles at that. “But don’t take it out on the guys okay?”

 

Lass looks at Bev and can feel her walls crumbling “okay.”

 

“Before you ask no we don’t have anything new.”  Bev says looking at the ashtray she frowns. Lass shrugs her shoulders.  “Did you let Will go?”

 

“Yes.”  Lass says removing her feet from the desk and sitting up so she can put her hand on Bev’s resting on the desk. “I am waiting for his call.”

 

“He is willing to help?”  Bev smiles and gently grasps Lass’ hands in her own.  “That’s good.”

 

Lass looks at their hands intertwined and wishes life could be this simple all the time just her and Bev together.  “Yes but I still do not entirely trust him.”

 

“You can handle him.”  Bev says and she knows Lass can handle anyone she has more gumption than any of the men who work here.  No one takes Lass for a ride, she will handle Will Graham easily.

 

Lass smiles at Bev, what would she do without her?  She is always there, always knows what to say, always has faith that Lass can do the impossible.  “Thank you.” Lass brings their hands close to her lips and gently kisses Bev’s hand. “And I am sorry, about the guys and you, I shouldn’t take things out on you and I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

 

“No you shouldn’t have but I know what you are like when you get a hunch and there is no stopping you but I would have come with you if you had woken me.” Bev says enjoying the feeling of Lass’ lips on the back of her hand as she lays small kisses on her skin.

 

“Promise it will not happen again.”  Lass says briefly pausing from kissing Bev’s hand.

 

“You are assuming you will be in my bed again.”  Bev says laughing.

 

Lass smiles “forgive me?”

 

Bev removes her hand from Lass’ standing just in front of her she reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  

“Always.” 

 

Just as Lass is about to pull Bev down into her lap the phone rings and they both stop and stare at it for a moment before Lass reaches across and answers it.  Bev moves to stand just behind her, absently running her fingers through her hair.

 

“Lass.”

 

A pause as whoever it is tells Lass something, Bev thinks its a guy but she isn’t sure.

 

“You said yes.”

 

Another pause

 

“Okay.  When? What time?

 

The voice answers.

 

“Come here before so we can brief you.”

 

A pause, what sounds like annoyed.

 

“He won’t suspect after all it's not like you don’t have a reason for being here.  You are still a part of a murder investigation especially as two Officers were found dead outside of your apartment.”

 

More words, muffled, short.

 

“Well he will when he sees the paper tomorrow, Freddie Lounds has the story.”  

 

More words even louder this time. 

 

“Because I leaked it.”  Bev is surprised at that and imagines that Brian is going to be less than happy when he finds out she did.  “Just come here before.” Lass puts the phone down.

 

“You leaked the story.”  Bev says.

 

“Yes, I know Brian will be pissed but he will get over it.  I need Will to be able to come here and it not look suspicious.” 

 

“So that was Will?”  

 

“Yes, he is going to dinner with Hannibal tomorrow evening at his house.”  Lass leans her head back to look at Bev who is still standing behind her running her fingers through her hair.

 

“So Hannibal will definitely be at home tomorrow evening.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Interesting.”  Bev says with a smile.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for those who are still with me! this beast will be finished! it is currently running at 20 chapters but i think it may be longer!
> 
> comments are the anticipation Hannibal has while he waits for Will to pick up the phone, kudos are Lass' hand kisses.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will, ordered by Lass, goes to Hannibal’s for dinner. What will he find out? If anything?

__

Will stands in front of the mirror in Alana’s bedroom and frowns.  He has on a new suit that Margot bought him after hearing he was seeing Hannibal again.  Margot takes a look at her work and smiles, she steps back so Will can see himself.

 

“Well?”  Margot asks with a beaming smile.  “I never knew you could look so handsome Mr Graham.”  

 

Will smiles “too little too late though I imagine.”  

 

Margot blushes “yeah afraid so.”

 

“I am happy for you Margot, truly.”  Will means it he has never seen Margot so carefree since she has been with Alana and it's not just Mason being gone, although he is sure that is a big part.  She seems happy, contented and it suits her.  _ Unlike this suit and me _ , Will thinks.

 

“So?  What do you think?”  Margot asks again.

 

“It’s just dinner I don’t know why I need this.”  Will complains gesturing at the get up and grimacing once more. He actually does think he looks good, like his old self. Regardless his true reasoning though is that Hannibal will like it.

 

“Because Hannibal is old school, you cannot turn up there wearing that worn out suit you wore last time.  It's about time you owned a decent suit anyway.” Margot is still looking at him in the mirror with a pleased smile.

 

“Yes” Will laughs “because I live such a busy life with so many social engagements.” 

 

Margot rolls her eyes. “Well, maybe now you have something to wear you might be more inclined.”  She looks at him again. “Hmmm you could do with a haircut.”

 

“I have to be there in a few hours.”  Will runs a hand through his hair and realises that Margot is probably right. He shaved before he left but his hair is too long and unruly.  

 

“I could do it for you.”  Margot smiles.

 

“No!”  Will laughs and imagines the kind of hairstyle he would end up with if he let Margot cut his hair.  

 

Margot holds her hands up “okay but let me at least brush it and maybe put some wax in it.”

 

“Why do you care so much about this?”  Will asks he knows she likes Hannibal, she doesn’t see the monster beneath the surface much like with him. Margot has an ability to only see the good in people. It’s an ability Will has never had. 

 

Margot smiles “because you haven’t left the house in decades and I think Hannibal could be good for you.” As she speaks she fusses with his hair running wax through it to try and tame those curls. Once she has done she smiles and claps pleased with her work. 

 

“It’s just dinner.”  Will says looking at himself in the mirror and hardly recognising his reflection.  The suit is a dark chocolate brown pinstripe, double breasted, he has a cream shirt on with a red tie and braces, there is waistcoat too.  He feels confined. Admittedly his hair does look better. 

 

“Dinner with Hannibal who has access to the entirety of the Baltimore social scene.”  Margot explains as if Will is a completely clueless recluse. Which of course he is. 

 

“That’s not what this is about Margot.”  He could never tell her. If Lass gets her way it’s all going to come out anyway and Will wonders what her reaction will be that the man who saved her life also killed her brother. That Will knew and didn’t tell her. He frowns. 

 

She looks at him strangely “what is it about?  I mean why are you going?”

 

“You said I needed to get out.” Will cannot look her in the eye as much as he wants to. 

 

“Fine don’t tell me.”  Margot goes to the bed and picks up the overcoat she had also bought.  It too is doubled breasted and a deep brown it looks warm. She hands it to Will.

 

“You didn’t have to do this.” It feels soft and expensive. 

 

“Yes I did you look freezing everytime  I see you.” she holds it open for him to put on which he does.  “Check the pockets.”

 

Will does and finds a new pair of leather gloves “I thought you like sharing with me.”  

 

“For all the times I am not there.”  She looks over his shoulder at his reflection.  “You almost look respectable Will Graham.”

 

“Almost.”

 

“Almost.”  Margot laughs and kisses him on the cheek.

 

***

 

He gets to Hannibal’s exactly at seven having been given a life affirming bourbon by Alana before being ushered out of the house by Margot.  He had promised to call and tell them all about his evening. Finding himself actually adequately protected against the Baltimore winter for once he takes a deep breath of the cold air.  He thinks about Lass and the conversation he had before making his way to Margot’s. Of course he plans to ignore all her techniques of getting close to people and earning their trust. Hannibal is not just anybody he would see through all of it in a heartbeat.  Actually Will is pretty sure he will see through all of this, the new suit, the saying yes at all to dinner. He is counting on it. He is after all bait. He should look good.

 

Knocking on the door he smiles again at the gloves Margot got him.  His hat is still his own worn out trilby he removes it before Hannibal opens the door, hoping his hair is still as Margot styled it.

 

Hannibal opens the door his face a perfect mask but Will sees the slight widening of the eyes and he knows that Hannibal likes what he sees.  “Will.” he says smoothly, “please come in.” Hannibal opens the door wide so Will can walk in.

 

“Thanks.”  Will responds as Hannibal takes his hat which he smiles at before Will removes his gloves putting them in the pocket of his overcoat.  Hannibal helps him remove his coat hanging it up next to his hat. 

 

“New suit?”  Hannibal remarks.

 

“Yes, you have Margot to thank for that.”  Will looks down at himself and feels like a stranger. 

 

“I shall remember to pass on my gratitude.”  Hannibal says and is doubly glad he killed Mason for her.  Will looks good, he looks handsome. “Please come through.”  As Will walks by Hannibal smells the familiar scent of cigarettes and police station coffee, he has seen Lass today.  Hannibal assumes that Will is now aware of Lass’ suspicions. This evening should be a gauge of how much Will believes it and what his plan is.  By the look of him he is hoping to put Hannibal off guard. It is almost working as he does look very good.

 

They go through to the lounge where Will takes Hannibal up on the offer of a bourbon.  He sips it trying to stay reasonably sober. Placing the bourbon down on the table he lights a cigarette and unbuttons his suit jacket.  Hannibal watches him with interest. 

 

“I assume you have seen the papers today?’  Will is making his way to the windows, hand idly brushing against the back of the couch.  Hannibal is pouring himself a drink pretending not to watch every move Will makes.

 

“I am afraid I have.”  Hannibal had seen the tabloid at work, Bedelia had it at the nurses’ station.  He had smirked when he saw it. “I was not sure if you wanted to talk about it.”

 

Will laughs and turns to face Hannibal, who is now sat down on the couch, unbutton his jacket he leans back and crosses his legs.  The very picture of elegance. Will looks at his hands holding the tumbler and wonders about what they looked like snapping the necks of those Officers. “Wouldn’t want to be rude.”  Will responds, after all, Hannibal is polite to a fault.

 

“Indeed.” Hannibal sips his drink.  “You can if you wish, talk about it, or not.  It is entirely up to you.”

 

Will smiles “it is a strange thing to be suddenly so surrounded by murder in the real world and not just in my head.”

 

“Yes I would imagine that could be jarring.”  Hannibal’s face is still completely smooth and Will can see how he has gotten away with hiding in plain sight for long.  “Not many people are ever confronted with the depths of their imagination.”

 

“No, no, they aren’t.” Will takes a long drag of cigarette. Hannibal watches the smoke curl in the air. 

 

“I would ask you how you feel but I would not want to be accused of psychoanalysing you.”  Hannibal takes another sip and looks at Will through hooded eyes. 

 

Will laughs throwing his head back so Hannibal can admire that swan like neck.  “We wouldn’t want that would we!”

 

When they finally sit down to eat Will sips the cool white wine and takes a moment to himself while Hannibal retrieves the first course.  He looks around the cobalt blue dining room and sees a perfect disguise. It is a well loved and crafted disguise but it is one nonetheless.  Hannibal is a clever creature and Will can feel his intelligence in everything in this room, in this house. Will when he wants to be though can be just as smart, he knows monsters, he knows them better than anyone else.  He is starting to realise the reason for this though, perhaps not realise but admit. He knows monsters because he is one.

 

Hannibal returns with the first course which he serves with his usual flair.  The food is delicious. 

 

“I was going to ask you.”  Will says as he puts his glass of wine down on the table he holds it by the stem mirroring Hannibal.  “I have a suspicion that you were perhaps not being entirely honest with me.”

 

Hannibal does nothing more than purse his lips slightly, it is a very quick reaction, the mask easily and quickly replaced.  “About what?”

 

Will looks at Hannibal who has the approximation of an open expression on his face and smiles. “I think you have read my books, before I gave them to you.”

 

Hannibal laughs it is a genuine laugh and it makes Will feel oddly satisfied that he can make him laugh, he has no idea why. “Ah, what gave me away?”

 

Will laughs now too and can feel the connection between them growing and it does not scare him as much as it should. “Just a feeling.”

 

“You have good instincts, I suspect that is what made you such a good PI and an even better writer.”  Hannibal takes a slow sip of wine his eyes never leave Will though. 

 

“You think I was a good PI?”  Will wonders at that, he is not sure he was ever as good as he thought he was in the height of his hubris.  He thinks of Abigail, her face swims across his eyes and he shakes his head and takes another sip of wine,  _ not here,  _ he begs.

 

Hannibal can see he has hit a nerve, of course that was his intention.  “Your last case may have ended in tragedy but you did solve it, a case I believe the Balitimore PD could not solve.”

 

Will hides the flinch at the mention of the police and he thinks about Lass.  She was not in charge back then, he is pretty sure if she had been she would have solved it quicker than him.  “It was still a mess.”

 

“Your other cases, you must have had a good success rate.”  Hannibal, of course, knows he has, he has looked extensively into Will Graham and knows every one of his cases as well as he knows his books.  Often they are one and the same.

 

Will grimaces as he remembers his old self.  The confident, cocky, arrogant PI who thought he was the smartest person in the room.  He usually was, he usually still is even through his alcoholism and chain smoking. This Will, the one sat across from a potential mass murderer is an echo of that man, he resembles him in some ways but in others he is so much worse.  That empathy, that ability to make connections is still there but it is laced with darkness that courses through his veins like the bourbon he drinks to pass out every night. 

 

“I was competent.”  Will responds. “The same could be said of my books.”

 

Hannibal shakes his head “I apologise for my deception it was-” Will can see him reaching for just the right word “arrogant of me, elitist perhaps, to not admit to having known your work.”

 

Will shakes his head and smiles “I understand, it is hardly high literature.”

 

Hannibal is suddenly very serious “I would disagree.  I think you have an uncanny grasp of the human psyche, especially those whose darkness is perhaps closer to the surface than for others.”

 

_ You would know _ , Will thinks and grimaces slightly. “I think perhaps we all have darkness in us.”

 

“Yes but how many of us acknowledge it let alone use it for inspiration.”  This is something they both have in common and it intrigues Hannibal to no end. 

 

“I have seen a lot of darkness in my time so I am better acquainted with it than most.” Abigail feels like she has stood behind him which is more than a little disconcerting, she never leaves his apartment.  He wills her away like a prayer. 

 

“That is understandable.  Not all of us get so close to our demons.” Will’s demons are beautiful to Hannibal he wants to introduce him to more. 

 

“Not many of us want to.”  Will adds.

 

“Well I am thankful that you have, your work is very impressive and I do sincerely apologise for denying my knowledge of it.”  It is rare Hannibal apologises for anything but in this regard he is sincere. 

 

“You are forgiven.”  Will adds and Hannibal smiles. “It still surprises me that you like it though.”

 

“It shouldn’t.  I am collector and avid consumer of many kinds of art.” He considers everything Will Graham does as art. 

 

Will laughs “art?  My books are not art!”

 

Hannibal leans slightly forward “oh but they are.” 

 

By the time Hannibal serves the main course Will still has nothing he can tell Lass.  Yes Hannibal lied about his books but that hardly means he is a murderer. He makes allusions to having a darker side, but again, that is nothing Lass can use. Will thinks Hannibal trusts him though, maybe he knows about Lass, maybe not, but at the moment Hannibal seems to be taking Will at face value.  Will just needs to seal the deal. He knows what it will take, an admission from him, an admission about his last case, about how Gareth Jacob Hobbs died. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments keep me going you have no idea! Kudos are little hugs and comments feel like a good old life affirming slap in my back!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She makes her way to the door keeping her footsteps light she presses her head against the door trying to hear any noise. Nothing. She takes her gun out of the holster, just in case and gently turns the handle and opens the door just enough for her to slip through, she closes the door behind her with a gentle click. Looking around she looks left down the long hallway and sees a door closes at the end. She hopes that’s the kitchen she thinks that is the best place to start. Not that he would have anything labelled ‘human liver’ but he might have something in the fridge that she can take back to the lab and have tested. Slowly and keeping the torch and her gun low she makes her way down the hallway.

Hannibal is sat at his desk in his office contemplating.  He could smell the faint scent of Detective Lass as soon as he entered but also someone else.  Either she was here with someone or whoever it was is very close to her. There is nothing immediately amiss about his office it is exactly as he left it, they were very careful.  Even the lock was not broken just jimmied slightly. Impressive work. Nothing has been stolen or moved. Everything on his desk is exactly as he left it. However he knows what Lass or whoever was after.  He moves the paper from under a file where he left it, he picks it up and brings it to his nose,  _ yes just the faintest scent _ .  His schedule for the week.  Someone wanted to know when he was in the hospital but they didn’t want him to know they knew.   _ Very clever _ .

 

He places the piece of paper down and smiles.  Leaning back in his chair he thinks about Will.  The dinner they shared last night. He can see the darkness in him, just under the surface of the man, he can see exactly how that last case went down.  He can picture Will hunting down Gareth Jacob Hobbs with a methodical intensity bordering on obsessive. He can see how Will Graham would have had no intention of leaving this man alive.  Gareth Jacob Hobbs was a dead man from the start. Hannibal smiles and wishes he could have seen it.

 

His revelry is interrupted by his door opening and softly closing.  He smells her perfume before he opens his eyes and smiles. “Good morning Bedelia.”

 

“Doctor Lecter.”  Her voice is a smooth and soft as a velvety bordeaux, there was a time when he found it singularly enticing.  Those days are fading fast and she knows it. Now she just has to remain useful. She makes her way towards his desk and stands just in front of it, trailing a delicate finger along the wood.  “You had a visitor last night.”

 

Hannibal looks at Bedelia, blonde hair perfectly arranged, blood red lips and pale soft skin.  She smells like smoke. “Indeed.”

 

She flinches almost imperceptibly at that but soon gathers herself to look him directly in the eyes she raises an eyebrow.  “You are aware.”

 

“I had a sense.”  Hannibal says his voice is even as he keeps her gaze.

 

She shrugs her shoulders and looks away making her way towards the book shelves she runs her finger along the spines of the medical texts.  “Do you know who it was? I think you would be a surprised.” Hannibal smiles at that as he watches her sway her hips slightly as she moves she turns and looks at him over her shoulder.  “I was.” She attempts intriguing but for Hannibal falls a little short. He sighs. 

 

“I have a theory.”  Hannibal is amused now as she begins to feel confident that she is, in fact, still useful. Smiling Hannibal stands and makes his way to Bedelia who only moves to turn her head back to the medical tomes as he approaches her.  She is aware of him though, she is completely aware of every move he makes, despite her valiant attempt to seem as if she not. Hannibal moves behind her, stands very close, his arms threatening to encircle her waist, he breathes in her scent.

 

“I imagine you do.”  Bedelia whispers and then slightly tilts her head up “would you like me to confirm or deny?”

 

Hannibal chuckles “I shall bite Bedelia.”  Again her body almost imperceptibly tenses before she manages to force herself to relax.  He almost admires this trait in her, the way she is drawn to danger like a moth to a flame.  He does not want to burn her wings but he will if necessary. “There is a strong possibility it was Detective Lass but I somehow think it was not, but one of her department perhaps.”

 

Bedelia smiles and turns to face him so they are stood millimeters apart, she looks up at him the height difference always significant.  “You are not wrong.” 

 

Hannibal smiles “ahh” he takes a step back from her and turns to make his way back to his desk where he perches on the edge.  She takes a moment and then follows him standing just in front of his knees. She reaches out a fine finger and strokes the silk of his tie.  “Someone she is close to.”

 

Bedelia smiles like a cat that has got the cream.  “Perhaps, I would not want to assume about these things.”

 

“Miss Katz.”  He had thought perhaps, he often got her scent from Lass and so it does not surprise him that she would be helping her.  He is also sure not many believe her theory about him but a fellow female officer, someone fighting against the boys club, a natural and obvious ally.

 

“Win again.”  Her fingers wrap around the knot of his tie and she leans in and brushes her lips against his before whispering “but what could Miss Katz want in your office in the dead of the night?”

 

Hannibal gently but firmly takes her hand from his tie and clasps it in his own he brings it up to his lips and kisses the knuckles.  “I would imagine, my dear Bedelia, to look at my schedule so she could find out when I was here and not at home.”

 

Bedelia smiles “indeed.  But what is to be done about it?”

 

Hannibal smiles and lets go of her hand “that is the question my dear, that is the question.”

 

****

 

“You were careful.”  Lass says as they lie next to each other in Bev’s bed.  It’s early and there is weak sunlight coming in through the window a promise of spring coming.  

 

“Yes of course”  Bev smiles and kisses Lass’ shoulder.  “No one saw me, no one would know I was there I took nothing I left it all exactly as I found it.”

 

“You shouldn’t have gone on your own.  You should have told me what you were doing.”  Lass was mad she found out Bev had taken it upon herself to break into Hannibal’s office.

 

“You were busy with Mr Graham.”  Bev smiles as she sees the grimace on Lass’ face at the mention of Will’s name.  She always wears her emotions on her sleeve.

 

“He is dangerous Bev.”  Lass is serious the thought of anything happening to Bev scares her more than she would like to admit.  She sighs and looks down at their legs entangled beneath the blankets, she kisses the top of Bev’s hair.  “I worry about you.”

 

Bev laughs ‘“I can take care of myself.”

 

Lass smiles “I know you can I just want you to be careful.”

 

“You too.  Anyway I saw his schedule he is in surgery until late today.  He will not be out of the hospital until after midnight probably later.”  As she speaks Bev is drawing circles on Lass’ shoulder. “So there is a window of opportunity.”

 

“You are sure.”  Lass repeats.

 

Bev looks up at Lass and smiles “yes.”

 

“I don’t like you doing this on your own.  We could wait do it another night. I can see if I can change my shift.”  Lass is supposed to be at the station all night tonight. 

 

“You shouldn’t do anything to arouse suspicion.  I can handle it, I will be in and out.”

 

“I don’t like it.” Lass has a more than uneasy feeling about this. 

 

“I know you don’t but its the best way.” Bev shifts so she is resting her head on her hand to look up at Miriam. “I am sure there will be something there has to be.  If you are right which we both know you are there will be evidence at his house.”

 

Lass runs a hand through Bev’s dark hair. “I still don’t like it.”

 

Bev smiles and kisses the palm of Lass’ hand. “I know but I promise it will be worth it.  Just think if it works you won’t have to deal with Will Graham again.” 

 

Miriam laughs. “True.  Just promise me you will be careful.”

 

“I promise.”

  
  


***

  
  


Bev parks her car a few blocks away from Hannibal’s house.  She parks on a dark corner so she is not seen, dressed in dark clothes she exits the car and walks the few minutes to Hannibal’s house.  It’s cold but not snowing, the air is freezing though it hurts a little to breathe and she rubs her gloved hands together and shivers. The neighbourhood Hannibal lives in is expensive and elite so this time of night there is not a lot of activity.  Most of the houses have private driveways or garages so there are few cars and no one walking. 

 

She nears his house and takes a moment to assess it.  Unlike a lot of the other properties in the area there is no wall or gate around Hannibal Lecter’s house it is open to the road.  There is short driveway up to the house (no car so he is still at the hospital) with a manicured lawn at the side. The house itself is imposing enough.  There is a small light by the door and some low lights on the driveway easily avoided. She does not go on the lawn though she doesn’t want to get mud on her shoes.  

 

Her footsteps are careful and quiet she does not disturb the air around her, she moves slowly but with purpose.  She does not go up the front door but makes her way to a side entrance which is not well lit. She takes a moment to look at the windows to make sure no lights are on and that there is no movement in the house.  It all looks still and quiet. Faintly like a mausoleum she thinks but shakes her head to dispel the thought she needs to concentrate. She decides against the side door which feels solid and is probably bolted from the inside.  Instead she focuses her attention on the small window to the left of the door. She is pretty sure she can fit, she is small and flexible. The only problem is she is not sure what is on the other side. Moving close to the window she attempts to peer though but it's dark and she cannot make out much.  

 

Lass had wanted to ask Will Graham about the layout but as Bev had pointed out they are still not sure what side he is on.  She sighs and takes out the flashlight from her bag she holds it up against the pane of glass and turns it on covering it as much as she can with her body so the light doesn’t spill.  This makes it slightly clearer in that she can see the space in front of the window seems clear. She turns the flashlight off puts it back inside her bag. 

 

Trying the window she can feel it’s locked as she thought.  She smiles and thanks her misspent youth and knowledge of crime scenes.  She takes out a small flat knife she brought with her, she jimmies it between the two overlapping panes between the wood where the simple slide lock is.  It takes her only one try and she slides the knife along to release the lock. She smiles, pleased with herself she puts the knife between her teeth and then tries the window which gives.  She slowly and carefully opens the window, holding it and waiting for a moment to see if she can hear any movement from inside. Nothing. She holds the window open with one hand while removing the knife from her mouth and placing it back in her pocket.  

 

With less grace than she would have liked she manages to squeeze in through the window and somewhat falls onto the tiled floor with a muffled curse.  She stands up and makes sure she cannot hear anyone. Satisfied she gently closes the window behind her and locks it once again. The room she is in appears to be a small boot room, she takes out her torch again and turn it on pointing it low at the ground.  She looks around the room and sees that it is mostly empty. Just a few coats hung up on the wall, some shoes and boots lined up underneath. Some store cupboards and a deep sink and taps. Carefully and quietly and with gloved hands she checks each of the cupboards.

 

Nothing of interest.  

 

She makes her way to the door keeping her footsteps light she presses her head against the door trying to hear any noise.  Nothing. She takes her gun out of the holster, just in case and gently turns the handle and opens the door just enough for her to slip through, she closes the door behind her with a gentle click.  Looking around she looks left down the long hallway and sees a door closes at the end. She hopes that’s the kitchen she thinks that is the best place to start. Not that he would have anything labelled ‘human liver’ but he might have something in the fridge that she can take back to the lab and have tested.  Slowly and keeping the torch and her gun low she makes her way down the hallway.

 

Once again she slowly turns the handle of the door and opens the door just enough to get through, closing the door behind her.  She looks around the kitchen it’s large and very clean. Everything has a place and everything looks up to date, some of the appliances look imported.  The counter tops are dark wood and look expensive. He has not one but two large fridges which though loud are the much quieter than the small one she has at home.  They are also gleaming.

 

She makes her way to the fridge and opens and the door a crack, soft light spills into the room and she turns her torch off placing it in her pocket once more, she places the gun in its holster again as she takes a look at the contents of the fridge.  This one mostly seems like it’s wine. Rows of bottles of white wine all orderly placed. She closes that door and then opens the other one, this one is food. Everything again is perfectly placed and preserved. All the fresh produce he has looks like it comes from a farmer market.  She smiles when she sees the carefully organised packages of meat on one of the shelves. Carefully she takes what certainly looks like a human liver and something else she does not recognise from the back of the shelf. She rearranges a few things to make it less obvious something is missing.

 

Closing the fridge door she takes her torch out again and turns it on.  She places the two small packaged of meat in her bag which she shoulders.  She removes her gun from her holster again. As she turns to go she can notices something glint on the floor in the torchlight, she takes a step closer and sees there is a sliding door to what looks like a pantry.  She makes her way over and slowly opens the door. Shining her torch inside low on the floor she can see at the back of the pantry there is a small metal ring set into the floor that looks like it pulls up a trapdoor of some kind.  Bev smiles and thinks  _ gotcha _ .

 

Hannibal has been watching Bev’s progress with a detached awe.  He honestly expected Lass to come. This does somewhat complicate things and means he will have to deal with Lass very soon after he has dealt with this problem.  He walks up behind her and the needle slips into her neck with such ease she barely gets more than a wheeze out before she slumps and falls into his arms. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who are still with me. I have been going through some RL shit that meant I was having difficulty writing. I am finding my way back and I will finish this fic! I am thinking it’s 2 more chapters and it’s done. 
> 
> Stay with me! 
> 
> Xxxxx

**Author's Note:**

> More next week. Thank you for reading! xxx

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART - Blood to Ink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385590) by [jazzy2may](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzy2may/pseuds/jazzy2may)




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